


The New Trio and the Chamber of Secrets

by MaraRiall



Series: It Begins and Ends With Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: Wolfstar raise Harry, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Draco Malfoy is a Black, Draco is Heir Black, Dumbledore Bashing, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/F, F/M, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Harry is Heir Peverell, Harry is Heir Potter, Heir of Slytherin Harry Potter, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Multi, Neville is Heir Gryffindor, Neville is Heir Longbottom, New Trio, New marauders but no one's Peter, Powerful Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraRiall/pseuds/MaraRiall
Summary: The new trio are back for their second year at Hogwarts, and the Chamber is due to be opened soon. Draco has more or less been adopted by Sirius and Remus, and is extremely happy to be a part of a nice, relaxed family. Well... as relaxed as it can get with the ex-Marauders around, anyway.In the meantime, Blaise has felt lonely, being cut off from Draco, so he decides to confront him to try to get his best friend back.~~~~~~~~~~~~The second installment in the series rewrite.Things are starting to become a little more AU.





	1. The Best Birthday

*Draco's POV*

Draco stood in the entrance to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, looking up in wonder at the many staircases. Sure, he’d been there before, but this was special. This was his first time in the house that was now his home. His best friend, Harry Potter-Black, and Harry’s two godfathers, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin-Black, had told him no more than ten minutes ago, that he was always welcome in their home. He was grateful to them, because he _wasn’t_ welcome at Malfoy Manor, the place he’d grown up in. His father had disowned him during his second week at Hogwarts, because he’d shamed the Malfoy name by being Sorted into Gryffindor. That was, in his opinion, absolutely ridiculous, because surely a person’s house didn’t completely define who they were. However, his father hadn’t seen it that way, and so his surname was no longer Malfoy, but Black. It had been for a while, because his mother had refused to completely disown her only son, and she had given him the Black name and a small fortune.

“You okay, Draco?” asked Harry from behind him, causing him to snap out of his reverie.

“Yeah. Just… thinking. About family stuff,” Draco replied with a small smile.

Harry gathered him up in his arms, and Draco let himself sink into the embrace. Harry was way too good at knowing when he needed a hug instead of words, and only partly because of his Magesight. However, the hug didn’t last very long, and when Harry pulled away, Draco found himself missing the warmth he’d felt.

“Come on, your room’s ready.”

Draco’s eyes opened wide. “I have my own room?”

Harry laughed. “Of course, silly! It’s your house too, remember?”

“Right,” he muttered under his breath, and followed his friend up three flights of stairs, stopping outside a dark brown door, which was two doors down from Harry’s.

Harry said something about changing into less travel-worn clothes, and disappeared into his own room, leaving Draco to open his door apprehensively.

*Harry’s POV*

Harry left Draco to look through his new room, and strolled into his own. He changed quickly, then tiptoed back downstairs to the living room, where he found his godfathers.

Sirius’ head snapped up from where it was resting against Remus’ shoulder. “So?” he asked.

“He’s checking it out right now. Can you come up and give it to him?” Harry asked excitedly.

“All right, I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t leave him alone for too long; it’s going to be difficult for the first few weeks. It was easier for me, but then again, I was older.”

Harry nodded and sprinted back up to their landing. Draco had left his door open, and was currently looking at the small collection of books on the small bookshelf next to his desk. “I’ve never had my own book case before,” Draco murmured.

“I take it you haven’t heard of the books there, either?” Harry asked gently.

Draco looked up briefly, and then back at the books. “No. I take it these were written by Muggles?”

Harry nodded. “The bathroom’s through that door,” he said, pointing it out. “We’re supposed to share it, but if you’re not comfortable, we can change—”

“No!” Draco half-shouted. He blushed at his outburst and continued in a quieter tone. “No, I-I don’t want to be any trouble. I mean, you haven’t just invited me to live in your _house_ , but your _home_. I mean… Malfoy Manor is all I’ve ever known, and it was great, but it was all so cold, so perfect. I felt like I was _supposed_ to belong there, but the more I tried, the more I felt like I was living a lie.

“My mother encouraged me to find something I liked, but when I told my father I liked Quidditch, all he said was, ‘Rather unsophisticated, isn’t it?’

“And then, you come along, and in the space of a few minutes, you show me friendship, and courage, and bravery… and then you helped me get past my disownment, and you invited me over for Christmas, and now… Is there anything you won’t do, to make the most insignificant person feel like they’re important?”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “No one’s insignificant,” he started. “Anyone can change the course of the future, even if it’s just by choosing to say one sentence differently. You deserve a home, and people who appreciate you, and listen to you. Everyone does. We’re all guilty of the good things we don’t do, and when I saw you in Madam Malkin’s, all stiff and formal, I saw an opportunity to do good.”

Draco shook his head in amazement. “You’re incredible. All year, I’ve seen you think about everyone but yourself, until there wasn’t anyone left to think about, and then you started all over again. You’re _eleven_ , you shouldn’t be so selfless!”

That made Harry laugh. “I’ve done it again, though. Sirius?”

Hearing his name being called, Sirius popped his head around the door frame. “Hmm? Oh! Right, here it is,” he said. In his hands, he held the Black Heir ring.

Draco’s eyebrow rose incrementally. “What’s going on?”

Harry smiled brightly. “I know that even though you say you don’t miss your father, or your title, you do. You grew up with them, after all. I thought long and hard about this, and I decided that I don’t need the Heir Black title. I’m Sirius’ godson, yes, but I don’t have nearly as much Black blood as you do. Plus, you have the name to go with it. I asked Sirius if he’d be okay with this, and he said yes. Do you accept?”

Now, Draco was staring, wide-eyed, at the ring resting in Sirius’ hands. He shifted his gaze to Harry. “Why?” he asked quietly, as though afraid this wasn’t real, and anything louder than a whisper might break the illusion.

“I wanted to give you some sense of normality back. You can’t see your father, but you can still have a title. You were raised to be the Heir to the House of Malfoy, so you know what to do better than I do with the House of Black. Besides, could you imagine the look on his face when he learns about the change?”

That caused Draco to giggle, albeit wetly, because he was starting to cry. “He’d be so mad…”

Sirius butted in gently. “Come on, little cousin. I know your mother will be really proud when she finds out you’re making your own way in the world, without the influence of your father.”

That, more than anything, decided Draco. He took a deep breath, and took the ring from his cousin’s hands. He slid it on his right ring finger and watched as it flashed and shrunk to fit him.

“There,” said Sirius proudly. “Now you really are one of us, and this really is your home now. Welcome home, cuz.”

Harry side-hugged him. “I hope you like roast chicken. It’s what we always have on the first day of summer holidays.”

“Home,” Draco murmured. “Finally.”

*

True to Sirius’ prediction, Draco had found the first few weeks extremely difficult. However, two weeks in, Narcissa had visited after another escapade organised by Snape, and she’d assured Draco that everything was fine, that she still loved him, and that she was so very proud of him for protecting his friends. Then, she gave him a belated birthday present: a Nimbus Two Thousand and One. This left Draco feeling happy and loved, and so he started to participate more in family activities.

Harry woke up on his birthday with a Magesight-induced headache. He got up from his bed and started to draw what he’d seen. After an hour, a face loomed out of the paper, and Harry shivered. The face had a cold, cruel smile, and for some reason, Harry had chosen to make the boy’s irises a dark red colour, and leave the rest of the drawing only in charcoal. He found he couldn’t look away from it.

A knock sounded from the bathroom door, and Harry startled. “Come in,” he said, and hoped that his fright was not evident on his face. Draco poked his head around the door and huffed. “Really? I thought _I_ was up early, and then I find out you’re already up! No fair. I was going to wake you up and wish you a happy birthday.”

Harry chortled. “Silly Draco. I’ve been awake for an hour. I had a Vision.”

Immediately, Draco sat on Harry’s bed and looked at him apprehensively. Harry turned briefly back to his charcoal sketch, then held it out to his friend. Draco took it, and looked at it uneasily.

“This is really lifelike,” he whispered. “It feels like he’s looking right into my _soul_. And what’s with the red eyes?”

Harry shrugged. “That was how I saw him. He was just standing in this wet, green hallway, and his eyes were brown, and then they just flashed red. Anyway,” he said, taking the drawing back from Draco’s grasp, “I’m going to put this where I can’t see it anymore. I won’t destroy it on principle, but I don’t want to see it, either.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to shrug. “It’s your art. Anyway, happy birthday, Harry. I have your present in my room, since I didn’t want you to have to wait until Pads and Moony have disabled all the pranks before opening up your first present of the day.”

Harry ducked his head in acceptance, and followed Draco back through their joint bathroom and into Draco’s room. The present was sitting on Draco’s bed, covered in sparkly gold wrapping paper.

Harry rolled his eyes where Draco couldn’t see him. The colour was so very _Draco_ , since he’d begun to realise early on that Draco might have a bit of ADHD; generally, the more sparkles or bright colours he assigned to something, the more he decided it was worth, and it would get more attention than what he was supposed to be doing. Therefore, this must be either extremely expensive (he hoped not, he had a bit of trouble with people spending excessive amounts of money on him at once), or very important to Draco.

Draco sat on his bed with barely restrained enthusiasm, and Harry ripped away the wrapping and saw two separate boxes. He raised one eyebrow at Draco, who coughed and said, “I couldn’t decide between two, so I got you both.”

Harry laughed, then opened the first box. Inside, there was an analog clock. He was about to ask what it meant, when Draco blurted out, “It’s an art thing. I read up a bit and there was this painting with a melted clock or something. Here, look.” He took the clock from Harry, and quickly placed it so that it was half on Draco’s bedside table, and half off. Immediately, the half that wasn’t in contact with anything drooped and looked exactly like the one from Salvador Dali’s _The Persistence of Memory_. “And when it’s as stretched as it can get, it sticks to it. All you need to do to unstick it, is to say, ‘Scream’, for some reason.”

Harry giggled, then revealed the painting’s name, and why the trigger word fit so well. Draco joined in giggling, but then soon stopped when he decided Harry was taking to long. He shoved the remaining box in Harry’s direction, who dutifully opened it. Inside, was a softly spinning model of the Earth, and floating next to it was a teardrop-shaped piece of glass. The teardrop was showing clear blue, with some whispy white things that looked like… “Clouds?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, and explained, “It shows you the weather of wherever you want. You just tap your wand to the globe and say the place you want to know the weather for. It’s also good for Astronomy assignments, since you can tap the teardrop and say, “night” and it’ll project the night sky of wherever you tapped the globe on, through the point at the top of the teardrop. The whole thing’s also basically indestructible. You’d need something like Fiendfyre to break it.”

Harry was incredibly gobsmacked. Not only had Draco done lots of research because he knew Harry liked art, but he’d also bought things with both ornamental and practical uses. Only then, he realised that Draco had gone silent after the fiendfyre statement, and was watching him nervously.

Harry bounced over to Draco and hugged him, stating, “This is such an awesome gift! Thank you so much, it means the world to me. Oh. Geddit? World!”

Draco, somewhat squished into Harry’s chest, groaned good-naturedly. “You know, you’re becoming more and more like Sirius as time goes on. That was horrible, Harry.”

*

The rest of the day was epic, to say the least. Harry had a small birthday party planned. Neville Flooed over at eleven and helped to set it up, and enjoyed a delicious belated birthday lunch while catching up with his two best friends.

Neville had truly come into his Gryffindor confidence since their first year at Hogwarts had started. As he and Harry had grown up, it had appeared as though Neville was the epitome of a hard-working, loyal Hufflepuff, and had therefore been extremely nervous at the thought of being in a house he’d always thought of as being kind of reckless. As time had passed, he barely recognised himself. Not only did he have more friends than he’d ever thought possible before, but he had _two_ best friends, and had a _girl_ swiftly on her way to becoming just as good a friend as Harry and Draco. Another thing he’d never seen himself doing was being reckless, but looking back on the Quirrell-and-the-Stone incident, he knew that it had been nothing _but_ reckless, but by being so, he’d also saved a great many people by helping his friends to prevent Voldemort from returning to life.

During lunch, he joked around with Harry’s godfathers, something he wouldn’t have had the courage to do before starting Hogwarts, and they all had fun listening to the Marauders’ pranks, and explaining to said Marauders what the new generation had gotten up to in order to cause mayhem.

Just after lunch, the Weasleys, Hermione, and Luna Flooed over. The party counted for both Harry and Neville, since their birthdays were only a day apart, and so they had two cakes… which meant twice the responsible amount of sugar for the group of extremely hyped-up kids, who decided that it would be a good idea to suddenly have an impromptu Quidditch match in the small back garden, because Sirius and Remus had given Harry a Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

This led to many of the flowerbeds being destroyed.

Finally, for Sirius and Remus at any rate, it was dinner time, which meant they could push the children who weren’t staying the night through the Floo back to their homes. Neville was sleeping over though, and, even though he and the other two vowed to never call it a sleep over, the three decided to camp out in Harry’s room. They ended up making a pillow fort, which made the two adults mockingly coo over how not-grown-up the boys were… and then they joined in.

However, all this celebration and laughter was immediately cut off when a bruised house-elf wearing a filthy pillowcase appeared at the foot of Harry’s bed.

“ _Dobby?_ ” asked Draco in disbelief.


	2. Dobby's Warning

Dobby, the creature in question turned so he could see Draco, and then went pale. “M-master Draco? What is he doing here? Dobby only wanted to come and… well, it is difficult to explain, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…”

Draco got out of his makeshift bed and put his hand on Dobby’s shoulder and said, “From the beginning please, Dobby, and does my mother know you’re here?”

Dobby shook his head rapidly, making his large bat-ears flap about his head. “Dobby overheard something, sir, something he is very sure he shouldn’t have.”

“From my father?” Draco guessed, unease filling his belly.

Dobby wrung his hands in anguish, and all three of them knew he couldn’t tell them anything properly without starting to punish himself. Draco had told them stories of the Malfoy house-elves’ mistreatment, and they’d been appalled that anyone could cause such pain for the already high-strung creatures who were frighteningly loyal to their masters.

“How about you tell Draco’s mum what you heard?” Neville suggested. “That way, you’re not breaking your master’s confidence, and she can decide on what to do with that information.”

Dobby stood there, awestruck, at the three twelve-year-olds who were willing to help him with his dillemma, while still being able to maintain his loyalty to his family. He snapped his fingers and Disapparated.

“Well,” said Harry, “we can hope he took the advice.”

The other two nodded sagely, and settled down to wait and see if he’d come back with good news.

*Narcissa’s POV*

Narcissa hadn’t had a very happy summer so far. Not only had she been unable to spend as much time with Draco as possible, but her _oh-so-good_ husband was almost always busy with something. He hadn’t yet told her what it was, but from his shifty behaviour, she had a feeling it wasn’t good. When he _did_ pay attention to her, it was with only one goal in mind: bringing a new Malfoy heir into the world. This sort of thing would have had her over the moon a few years ago, as she’d always wanted to give Draco a brother or a sister, but now… Well, now Draco may never get the chance to properly _meet_ any potential sibling, and it was all Lucius’ fault. She’d barely been able to get away from his advances so far, citing mourning for the loss of her one and only son, but her time was running out; in about a month, Draco would be back at Hogwarts, and Lucius would have every legal right to attempt to impregnate her.

Currently, she was in the music room, playing a custom piece on her grand piano. In here, she was relatively safe from him, as he’d only stepped foot in it once during his adult life, and that had been to inform her of Draco’s disownment, even though she’d known what had happened when she’d felt the Malfoy familial magic resting more heavily on her than before, and when she’d felt that, she’d sought out the connections available to her. To her dismay, she’d found out that Draco wasn’t her son in magic any longer, only by blood. She’d barely managed to compose herself before Lucius had walked in, and once he’d left, she wrote to Gringotts as well, giving Draco the Black name and a vault, and then she’d succumbed to hysterics again. It had been Severus who’d found her, coming through the nearest Floo to inform her of Draco’s breakdown. He’d comforted her, telling her he was heartened again by the Gringotts note in her name, and when he’d left, she’d felt better than she had in a while.

Her peace was disrupted by a small _pop_ behind her. She stopped playing and turned to face her house-elf visitor. “Mistress Cissa! Dobby overheard something from Master Lucius and went to Harry Potter-Black to warn him, but Young Master Draco told Dobby to tell Mistress Cissa instead!” Dobby rushed out in one breath.

“You saw Draco? How is he—no, don’t tell me that, not until you tell me what you overheard. It must be important if you felt like you needed to tell Harry about it. Please, join me.”

This had the opposite effect of the soothing one she’d intended, as Dobby promptly burst into tears—very noisy tears. She quickly put up silencing wards around the room, and grasped Dobby by the shoulder. “Dobby, you must understand that Lucius has never treated you, or any other elf, this way because he felt you were all inferior to him. I, on the other hand, do not. You will sit here, calm down, and tell me what you overheard, so I can decide what to do with the information.

Having orders, Dobby followed them to the letter, spending a good fifteen minutes to explain his discovery, and then Narcissa made a decision on what to do. Her plan was simply devious, and proved beyond doubt that she was anything, if not Slytherin.

*Draco’s POV*

They were immediately awoken out of their fitful sleeps when Dobby Apparated back into the room, clutching a satin sock. He was in tears, and Draco asked, “What happened? Are you okay, Dobby?”

Amidst tears, he let his audience in on what had transpired. “Y-yes, Master Draco, Dobby is better than okay, he is free!”

“What?” exclaimed Neville. “Where did that come from?”

“Dobby did just as ordered: he went to Mistress Cissa. Dobby told her Harry Potter-Black was in danger from Master Lucius, and she freed Dobby and suggested he go to Master Draco and become his personal house-elf, then spy on his old master so he could protect Master Draco’s friends!”

Draco blinked a few times, processing all of the information he’d been given, then looked over to his friends, who had similarly shocked expressions. He turned back to Dobby and said, “Dobby, if this is what you want, then once you’re bound to me, I’ll give you a salary of one galleon a week, which you can use to buy whatever you want. You would also be allowed a den in Grimmauld Place, and I expect you to keep yourself clean, and to wear an appropriate house-elf robe that would show you are a part of the House of Black. I would forbid you to punish yourself for any wrongdoings, and I won’t punish you either. Do you agree to all this?”

With fresh tears in his eyes, Dobby nodded ecstatically.

He held out his hand to the diminuitive elf, palm up, and said, “Elf, with your best interests at heart, you have asked of me something I can give you. What say you to serving me for as long as it pleases me?”

“Dobby, formerly of the House of Malfoy, agrees to be bound to the House of Black, and primarily serve Draco Black,” he said, laying his small hand into Draco’s palm.

There was a flash of light, and then Dobby explained why he’d been so terrified for Harry. “Lucius was talking to himself in his study while Dobby was cleaning out the chimney, Harry Potter-Black. He was saying that his preparation was almost complete, and soon all Mudbloods would be wiped out of the school, as well as all those who thought they were better than someone. Dobby does not know who this someone is, and since Dobby didn’t hear a reply, he snuck down the chimney to look.”

“What did you see?” asked Draco.

“Only Draco’s father sitting at his desk, no one else. He then only said that he was ‘looking forward to watching as all of these terrible things happen’, and that he couldn’t wait to blame them on Dumbledore. Sir, Harry Potter-Black must not go back to Hogwarts this year! Dobby has heard of his greatness, and does not wish for him to be in such danger.”

Harry shook his head mutely, unsure of what to say, so Draco explained for him. “Harry is one of my best friends, Dobby, and we have lots more friends, all waiting for us to go back to Hogwarts. We’ve got Sirius, Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Uncle Severus to protect us. If you spy on my father, then we’ll be aware of any danger, and we can tell the adults. This is enough safety in order for us to go back to Hogwarts, and I expect you to agree with me.”

Hearing the order from his new master, Dobby nodded vigorously and popped away.

Draco breathed out a sigh of relief when the energetic elf was gone, and he heard both Neville and Harry echo him.

“Well,” Neville started, “that was a bit intense. I don’t suppose we’ll be left in peace, now, do you?”

Harry snorted. “If we’re not, they better expect a hex.”

Draco and Neville quickly agreed and they all soon fell asleep.


	3. The Burrow

Harry knew Draco was secretly dreading their destination this morning, and by extention, that whole week was blacklisted. The trio had agreed to stay at The Burrow, and go with them on their Diagon Alley trip, and Draco had seemed fine with the idea when it was a whole month away. Now, however, Draco was panicking. He’d been working with Remus to overcome some of the ingrained behaviour he’d had to learn as Lucius Malfoy’s son, but he still had a thing about cleanliness. He showered twice a day, wouldn’t sit down on a chair if he could see dust or dirt on it, and crinkled up his nose in distaste whenever he saw the state of Neville’s clothing after a long day in his greenhouse.

The only ‘mess’ he seemed not to mind was the inevitable one whenever Harry went into one of his artistic moods. Sure, he’d still carefully step over any discarded pencils or sketchbooks which normally littered the floor of Harry’s room, but that was… different. Harry, who loved studying people, sometimes noticed an expression of exasperated fondness cross the blond’s face.

Draco was concerned (actually, he was bloody terrified) that when he arrived at The Burrow, he would offend the Weasleys in some way while he attempted to push down his first instincts as a proper little pureblood heir. Harry had tried to tell him multiple times that they all understood, that they wouldn’t mind, and that by the end of the week, the place would have grown on him. Every time he tried to convince Draco of this fact, he’d raise one perfect eyebrow and look at Harry until he gave up.

Therefore, as Draco was panicking for the fifth time that morning on whether he brought enough clothes, Harry had enough. He strode over to Draco’s suitcase (because of course he’d have one just for clothes), closed it, and quickly sat on it. Draco’s tantrum was cut short. “Erm… Harry? Wh-why are you on my suitcase?”

“You’ve got enough clothes for a small village, Dray. You’re fine. You’ve got a whole outfit for each and every bad-weather scenario I could possibly think of, and still managed to fit your broom in there,” Harry stated, arms crossed.

Draco scoffed. “There are plenty more clothes I could need! What if there’s a mudslide? Or a hurricane?”

“There aren’t any clay-based mountains in the area, so the mudslide’s out,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “As for the hurricane, we’re not in the tropics, and nowhere near the ocean, so no tsunamis either. You’re going to be fine! Nev and I’ll be with you the entire time, so we can always nudge you if you’re about to do something you shouldn’t; and Mrs Weasley would let you sleep in Charlie’s old room if you asked, so you don’t have to room with Ron the slob, Neville the mud enthusiast, or Harry the art freak.”

Draco’s eyes snapped to Harry’s at the last bit, and his face became pink in anger. “Don’t call yourself that! Or the other two! I don’t think of either of you in such vulgar terms, and I never will. Just because I have a thing about being clean, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t gladly room with you guys. Sure, I may find it uncomfortable at first, but I’ll get over it. I’ll probably be tossing garden gnomes by the end of the week.”

Harry grinned triumphantly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past month! I only said those things because I realised you needed a kick in the arse towards the right direction. That little speech you just did… very Hufflepuff.”

Having calmed down somewhat, Draco gasped in mock indignation. “How _dare_ you! I, a _Hufflepuff?_ Of all the inconceivable notions running through that plebeian head of yours!” He went out the doors, muttering under his breath, still playing up the well-bred heir. “ _A Hufflepuff… honestly._ ”

*Draco’s POV*

Okay, so The Burrow was… quaint. It looked like several hovels had been levitated on top of one another, and kept that way with any number of enchantments. Come to think of it, that was actually rather impressive, and the house was certainly a conversation piece.

Entering through the door, his vision was assaulted with a multitude of colours and patterns, not really fitting together, but coexisting all the same, giving the place a very homey feel. He smiled slightly at seeing a small clock hanging on the kitchen wall which said things like ‘Time to feed the chickens’, and ‘you’re late’, which seemed to change its ‘time’ based on who was looking directly at it.

“Now, dears,” said Mrs Weasley, and Draco jumped. “You have about an hour until Neville gets here, and then another hour until lunch. Draco, I know you may be used to doing magic around the house, but sadly our wards don’t have anywhere near the capabilities you’re used to. So, I’m afraid to say, dear, you can’t use your wand for the week.”

To say the least, Draco felt horrified, but not in the way he thought he’d be. He simply couldn’t get past the idea that in a house filled to the brim with so much magic, his friends hadn’t been able to use it. He’d never told anyone, but he was very sensitive to magic. He could feel the aura of power around a person or object; the more there was, the more it called to him, and with the way The Burrow was structured, he could feel the very air around him pulling at his magical core. Therefore, he knew he’d be spending as much time as possible outside.

In fact, this sensitivity was the reason why he’d reached out to Harry in the first place. His aura had been nearly overwhelming, and whatever Slytherin he’d had in him had told him to hang on to the tousle-haired boy, because he wanted that power on his side. The longer he stayed around Harry, the less he found himself judging people’s power levels, instead getting to know them first before making any judgements on their characters.

He was nudged out of his thoughts by Harry, and realised he’d just been staring at the dining table for who knows how long, while Harry patiently stood by him. “You all right?” he asked softly.

Draco smiled, and decided he might as well tell his best friend. “Of course, just getting the feel of the place. It’s quite different to what I’m used to, all this extra magic floating around. Shall we go back outside?”

Harry followed him with a bemused expression, which slowly turned to wonder as Draco explained his gift. Finally, he commented, “It sounds sort of like the raw basis for a magical diagnostic spell. Can you tell the type of magic in the aura, or just the amount?”

“I can tell the type as well, but it takes a bit more concentration. Why?” he asked.

“Well, I was thinking we should find some way to figure out what type of magic is on that book your father has, right? Well, house-elves can apparate into practically any wards because most wizards don’t think of adding wards to stop this, so unless your father has specifically put up wards to prevent you from entering the property via house-elf, Dobby could apparate you in, you scan it, copy what you feel onto some parchment, then come back.”

Draco’s mind was spinning with the possibilities, but one thing stood out. “When you say come back, do you mean with the book?”

Harry shook his head. “It could be dangerous. We also don’t know if you can detect dormant magic, so what if you don’t sense it, but there’s a curse on it that if someone other than your father touching it, causes a trap to appear? You could be seriously hurt!”

“Aww, concerned about me?” Draco teased.

“Always,” Harry said, and Draco felt as though his heart had stopped. “You and Neville are my best friends, I can’t imagine something happening to either of you, especially when I’m not there with you.”

Draco’s heart started again, and he gave out a quiet sigh. “I know what you mean. I promise I’ll try not to do anything too stupid… unless you’re next to me,” Draco added slyly.

Harry snorted. “Agreed.”

*

It was Friday, and today was the day Harry, Draco, and Neville had set aside for Draco’s trip into Malfoy Manor. However, They didn’t want anyone to think they were up to something, so despite waking up early due to nerves, they didn’t go downstairs. In fact, they didn’t even talk, as sound carried well in The Burrow, so they double checked their plan by writing down what they wanted to say on parchment and showing it to each other. Eventually, after going over it, they each pulled out a book and read for the hour remaining until Mrs Weasley could be heard puttering around in the kitchen.

They ambled downstairs, seemingly carefree, had breakfast, then cheerfully told her they’d decided to visit Luna for a bit, and that they’d be back by lunch.

Once outside, they headed in the direction of Luna’s house, but once they’d reached a small copse of trees just outside the meagre wards, they sat down. Draco called Dobby, who, having been informed of the plan prior to today, simply held out his hand, which Draco took grimly, and they Disapparated with a soft _pop_.

They appeared in his father’s study, and Draco was again grateful that his father always kept a tight schedule that meant that at this time of day, he was off harrassing the Minister for Magic.

Dobby pointed him toward the drawer which held the book, and opened it magically. All of a sudden, Draco was thrown back by the power and absolute _hatred_ coming from the book. Winded, he struggled upright again and waded back through the waves of magic towards the source of power. All at once, he could see it was a diary, the year on the cover stating that the thing was fifty years old. He also knew that he didn’t need to concentrate very hard to find what type of magic it had; the hatred and the slimy feeling in the air making him shudder. So, he got the roll of parchment out of his pocket and pushed his magic onto it, and before his eyes, the runes describing the magical signature, the type of magic, and the affinity appeared. He put the parchment back into his pocket, then nodded to Dobby, who closed the drawer and popped the both of them out of there as quickly as possible.

Draco fell to the ground as soon as they arrived back where Harry and Neville were, and retched. He heard his friends squawk in alarm and rush to him, and felt their hands on his back. After he’d finished, a vial was held under his nose. He looked up blearily and saw Luna. “Stomach Soother. I thought it might be useful.”

Not quite ready to question Luna’s presence yet, he just accepted the vial and gulped the vulgar liquid down. “I have a variant of Magesight,” Luna explained, “called Conspicuum Magesight. It allows me to look beyond the visible world, beyond appearances, and see the absolute truth. I Saw that you would need my help, and what you were doing as soon as you’d made the decision to do it. You see, the last time we met, you unknowingly became my subjects.”

“What do you mean by subjects, Luna?” asked Neville slowly.

“A focus on the physical world. It’s through you three and your decisions that I see the truth the easiest. If a friend of yours is in danger, or is pretending to be a friend for some reason, I’ll see it, but not beyond three degrees of relationships. So, I can see your friend’s friend, and their friend, but not any further. My destiny is tied to you three.” She leaned in to whisper, “I’m looking forward to all the mischief!”


	4. At Flourish and Blotts

Draco’s prediction came true: He _was_ tossing garden gnomes by the end of the week. In fact, due to his highly competitive nature, he was winning several of the impromptu gnome-throwing games, and having lots of fun doing it. It seemed as though the muddier he got, the more determined he was to win. However, he still preferred cleanliness, and as soon as the game was over, he’d rush to the bathroom and come out practically shining not too long afterwards. Still, it was definitely progress.

Other than that development, the trio enjoyed their time at The Burrow. Their bridges with Ron were starting to be rebuilt, but Harry knew that their friendship with him would never be as strong as before, because they’d had numerous adventures which he had no knowledge of. They spent time properly getting to know Luna and her father, playing Quidditch with the Weasley kids (other than Percy, who was often hidden away in his room. Harry had heard him mumbling about someone, and when Harry asked Fred and George, they told him that they thought Percy was seeing someone), and going over prank ideas with Fred and George. It was a good thing that any small explosions in their room was ignored by the other members of the house, because otherwise their devious plans would have been outed.

Mrs Weasley fussed like crazy over Draco, demanding he eat fourth helpings at every meal when he could barely eat two. Harry suspected that rather than just one Weasley jumper for Christmas, it seemed likely that Draco would have several other items of knitted clothing as well, and it was looking very likely that Draco would enjoy being pampered like that. He’d been practically starved of love when Harry had first met him, with his mother the only provider, and becoming a Gryffindor, living with Harry and his godfathers, and finally being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, had allowed Draco to come out of his shell fully.

Monday morning arrived, bright and sunny, and the four boys tumbled downstairs to breakfast to find Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. Harry noticed that as soon as Ginny saw Neville, her face became as red as her hair. She often became quite clumsy, prone to knocking things over, whenever Neville entered the room. Harry thought it was hilarious.

“Letters from school,” said Mr Weasley, passing each of the present kids almost identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. “Dumbledore already knows you three are here—doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them too,” he added as the twins ambled in, still in their pyjamas.

Harry wondered how Dumbledore had found out. He knew Sirius and Remus wouldn’t have told the old goat; neither of them trusted him after what they’d discovered on Harry’s tenth birthday. Neville’s gran wouldn’t have told him, since she was mostly ignored in the social game that was the Wizengamot until she spoke up. That left the Weasleys. Harry mused that other than Fred and George, none of them knew how manipulative the headmaster was, and so would probably have chatted away about the trio’s whereabouts without realising that there was a possibility for exploitation on Dumbledore’s behalf.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry’s told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September the first. There was also a list of the new books he’d need for the coming year.

Second-year students will require:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry’s. “What’s with all the Lockhart books? If there are seven books, shouldn’t the new DADA professorjust assign one book per year?”

“It is rather suspicious,” said Draco. “Perhaps Lockhart really needs the money?”

“No, he’s actually quite famous. Maybe the professor’s a fan?” suggested Neville.

“Bet it’s a witch,” grumbled George.

Fred caught his mother’s eye and said, “This lot won’t come cheap, mum. Lockhart’s books are really expensive.”

“Well, we’ll manage,” she said, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things second-hand.”

Percy, who had joined the group in the middle of the conversation, piped up. “What if we just get two copies of each of his books? I can share one set with Fred and George, and Ron can share the other set with Ginny. I mean, it’s pointless to get the twins a set each, since they’re in the same class, and at the most, we’ll only have the class three times a week, and never at the same time.”

Mrs Weasley blinked, then smiled. “That is a brilliant idea, Percy! Well then, now that that’s all settled, shall we go today?”

They all agreed, but the decision was nullified when a letter from Hermione arrived.

_Dear Harry, Draco, Neville, and everyone else at the Burrow,_

_I hope you’re all having fun playing Quidditch, and I’m looking forward to Marauding around with you guys when we get back to Hogwarts!_

_I’m very busy with school work, of course_ —“Ah, good old Mione,” sighed Draco. “Always looking for the next book to read.”— _and we’re going to Diagon Alley this Wednesday. Why don’t we meet up?_

_Let me know what’s happening, love from,_

_Hermione_

The trio and the twins couldn’t wait to see Hermione again, so it was decided that they’d go that Wednesday. They used the owl Hermione had sent her letter with to discreetly send Gringotts Draco’s reading of the diary, along with a note asking for an appointment to go over it.

*

Mrs Weasley woke them all early. After wolfing down several bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and got ready to Floo to Diagon Alley. However, before they could get anywhere, there was a knock on the door.

Frowning slightly, Mrs Weasley opened it to find Luna and her father, Xenophilius, or Phil, waiting patiently in matching mint green robes.

“Phil, what a nice surprise! I’m afraid we were just about to pop over to Diagon Alley, though,” said Mrs Weasley.

“Ah yes,” he said in his soft-spoken voice. “My little Moonbeam informed me that you were, and since it’s also her first year, we were going to ask if we might tag along. We brought some Floo powder though, since she said you were running low.”

Mrs Weasley seemed a bit flustered as to how Luna could have known all that, but Mr Weasley butted in and said, “Of course, Phil. The more, the merrier, I always say!”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

They Flooed over one by one, and ended up in a huge group blocking the brick passage into Diagon. Mr Weasley tapped the bricks with his wand, and the archway appeared. “Right,” Mrs Weasley said, “Gringotts first, yes?”

They rattled through the alley to the white building, and came across Hermione. “Hey! Guys, over here!”

They all looked up and saw her at the top of the flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

“She’s really pretty,” Harry heard Fred whisper to George just before she sprang upon them, hugging tightly.

“Oh, it’s _wonderful_ to see you two again… are you all going into Gringotts?” she asked.

“No,” said Draco. “Harry, Neville, and I all have Instant Retrieval pouches, so we were going to just wait outside.”

“Oh, well, My parents and I just got out of there, so why don’t you come with us?”

“I’d like to come too,” piped Luna from somewhere behind the twins.

“Hello, Luna,” said Hermione. “Have a nice summer?”

“Oh yes, I got to watch the Wubblet migration.”

“Okay…” started Harry, “Anyway, um, yes. We’ll go with you.” He turned to Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were looking on in confusion. “How about we meet up again at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy our books?”

“All right, dears. Do be careful though, and take Phil with you,” she acquiesced.

“But you’re _Muggles!_ ” Mr Weasley blurted out delightedly. “We _must_ have a drink! How about after Flourish and Blotts, then?”

Hermione’s parents just nodded, a bit bemused, then shepherded the kids going with them towards Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour for a quick treat before their day of shopping. After purchasing a large strawberry and peanut-butter ice cream, Harry slurped at it happily as he and his friends wandered the alley. After getting quills and parchment at one store, Draco convinced them all to go next door into Quality Quidditch Supplies, where he and Harry bought new Quidditch gloves. When they got to Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they came across the twins and Lee Jordan, stocking up on Dr Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. After joking around a bit, Neville decided to buy a set of biting teacups for his Gran. He thought she’d get a kick out of offering them to stuffy officials who sometimes visited on Ministry business.

Eventually, they headed to Flourish and Blotts, which, they discovered, was absolutely _packed_. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows.

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_today 12.30_ _–_ _4.30_

The trio groaned simultaneously. “What?” asked Hermione. “Don’t you think it’s fascinating? I mean, he’s written almost the whole booklist!”

“Mione,” Harry said, “I’m sorry to say, but I’ve read three of the seven of his books on the list, and there are so many inconsistencies in it! It’s ridiculous, he seems to think that all vampires can actually turn into bats, when that was actually a rumour started by other wizards when Dracula found out his animagus form was a fruit bat! And the Homorphus charm is a myth! I mean, don’t you think that if it weren’t, Moony would’ve used it by now?”

Hermione’s expression became slightly downcast. “You-you mean that he could be… _lying?_ About all the things that he’s done?”

“Not everything,” Draco soothed. “Just, some of it. Maybe he did most of it, but he just decided to add some stuff in to make himself look even more impressive.”

“I know!” exclaimed Neville. “How about we just get two sets of his books? One for the two of us, and one for Draco and Harry? And we can go through all of them with a fine-tooth comb before term starts for any inconsistencies? That way, we’ll know which stuff we need extra resources on for homework?”

That brightened her up immediately, and they squeezed inside once the Weasleys had caught up with them. A long queue wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. The kids grabbed the number of copies that they’d all agreed on and sneaked up the line to where Mr and Mrs Weasley, the Drs Granger, and Mr Lovegood were standing.

“Oh, there you are, good,” said Mrs Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. “We’ll be able to see him in a minute…”

He slowly came into view, seated at a table surrounded by pictures of himself, all winking and flashing too-white teeth. He wore bright blue robes which matched his eyes; his hat was set at a jaunty angle on his golden blonde hair.

A _Daily Prophet_ photographer was clicking away madly, his camera emitting short bursts of purple smoke after every flash.

“Out of the way,” he snarled at Luna, stepping on her foot and accidentally pushing her to the ground.

“Hey! Watch it!” growled Neville as he helped her up.

Lockhart heard him, and looked up. He saw Neville, then gasped when he saw Harry standing next to him. “It _can’t_ be Harry Potter?” he shouted out.

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. “No,” said Harry. “My name is Harry Potter-Black.”

“Oh… um, well, it’s still you, so…” he trailed off, then regained his enthusiasm and dived forward, seized Harry’s arm and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause as the photographer was clicking away madly. Harry looked for help from his friends, but instead found them guffawing and barely holding back full out laughter.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” said Lockhart, through his teeth. “Together, you and I are worth the front page— _oof!_ ” Harry elbowed him in the gut and made his way back to the Weasley clan, then faced the downed man.

“If you _ever,_ ” Harry spat, “touch me again, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers. Furthermore,” he turned to the photographer, “I forbid you from using my presence here in your newspaper.”

Harry stormed into the recesses of the store, followed by Draco, and sat down on a small bench next to the Arcane Magic section. “That was brilliant, Harry,” Draco said as he sat down next to him and rubbed soothing circles on his back. “ _You_ were brilliant.”

Muffled, due to the distance and the amount of books between them, Harry and Draco heard Lockhart say, “Ladies and gentlemen, young Harry there has unknowingly aided me in finding a way to announce a little development I’ve been sitting on! He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting me as their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September!”

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself wondering how gullible all those middle-aged ladies must be. Draco sneered. “I cannot _believe_ that they would accept that as an excuse for his manhandling of you!”

“I can,” said a voice from their left. They turned their heads to see a dark-skinned boy their age leaning casually against the edge of a bookshelf.

“Blaise!” exclaimed Draco. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Yes, well perhaps the reason for that is because you’ve left yourself no time to _catch up_ with the friends you had _before_ Potter-Black turned your head?” Blaise suggested.

Draco sighed. “It wasn’t like that, and you know it! If I’d gone near you or Theo after being disowned, then Pansy, Crabbe, or Goyle would’ve reported it to their parents, and with my father on the Board of Governors, he would have bribed them all to have me expelled, and any reputation I had left destroyed. I have friends in Gryffindor, _real_ friends.”

“Oh, so I’m not good enough for you, is that it? I—”

Draco growled and cut him off. “Yes, you are! If you can come up with a way to meet up with me without anyone else in Slytherin finding out, then by all means, tell me, but if you don’t, then I have no idea what to do. The divides between Slytherin and Gryffindor are too big at the moment. I want to still be friends with you, Blaise. _Please_ believe me.”

Blaise gave him a searching look, then nodded. “I believe you.”

Harry suddenly had an idea. “What if we permanently transfigured a rock into some sort of ring, and then charmed it to be invisible, and when one wearer wants to meet up with another, they rub it and the other person’s ring heats up a bit? We could give one ring to each of the Recruits, and when our rings heat up, we could meet up in the RoR.”

Draco had his head cocked to the side. “Why transfigure it from a rock?”

“Because then it’s already been introduced to magic, so any additional charms are easier to permanently anchor. Oh! We could also add a charm that detects potions or poisons, so that if your food is pranked by someone else, you’d know!”

“I can see why Draco keeps you around, Potter-Black,” said Blaise. He sighed. “I suppose this is the best idea we’ve got, so we may as well try it. One question: what’s this RoR?”

*

After discussing the logistics of their plan, they made their way back to the front of the store, in time to see Mr Weasley socking Lord Malfoy in the jaw and knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. The three boys looked at each other and rushed to help Ginny, whose cauldron full of books had gone flying, and the books had come to rest amidst a large pile of heavy spellbooks which had fallen from the bookshelf due to the fight. Mrs Weasley was shrieking for them to stop, but when they did, it was due to the timely arrival of Hagrid. He pulled them off each other and demanded to know what was going on. Mr Weasley had a cut lip, and Lord Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an _Encyclopedia of Toadstools_. He was still holding Ginny’s old transfiguration book, and so thrust it in her direction blindly, catching Blaise on the arm. “Here, girl—take your book—it’s the best your father can give you—”

Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip, he swept from the shop, leaving a mess of books in his wake. As Hagrid straightened Mr Weasley out a bit, the Weasley children, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Neville, and Blaise picked up some of the books on the floor and proceeded to stack them in a free corner.

It was a subdued group who headed back to the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. They all said goodbye to Hermione, who left for the Muggle side of London, and Harry, Draco, and Neville Flooed back to Grimmauld after Mrs Weasley promised to send their belongings to them through the Floo by the end of the day.


	5. Something Wicked

Sirius received an owl at breakfast in the middle of August, telling him that they were afforded a meeting within Gringotts later that day, so the four occupants of Grimmauld Place got ready and made their way to Gringotts. Once inside the grand white building, they were escorted into the office of Urzog, the goblin they’d first met on Harry’s tenth birthday.

“Let’s get straight to business, shall we? Mr Malfoy, the readings you acquired from this diary you mentioned are very troubling,” stated Urzog gruffly.

“How so?” asked Remus.

“They very clearly show that the object in question contains an enormous amount of black magic, so much so, in fact, that it is clearly a Horcrux. This is extremely troubling, as it is the fourth Horcrux we at Gringotts have come across due to your family.”

“ _Fourth_? I thought there’d only been three! When did you find the fourth one?” exclaimed Sirius.

“Shortly after cleansing Mr Potter-Black of his,” Urzog said. “You see, we were concerned when we discovered that locket in your household almost eleven years ago, but since you had no knowledge of its existence, let alone the black magic within, we did nothing further, other than to cleanse it and give it to the goblin clan that had originally made it. Then, your godson was discovered to have another piece imbedded in his scar, again without your knowledge, and we were enraged. To goblins, Horcruxes are the epitome of evil and selfishness, both of which goblins abhor.”

“So after you cleansed Harry, you found another one? How?” asked Draco.

“It was decided that the House of Black seemed to be the centerpoint, so we unintrusively scanned each vault that belonged to someone who was even remotely connected to your House, which turned out to be approximately half of the vaults. In the vault belonging to your cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, there was a cup which had a large enough black aura to be a Horcrux, so we cleansed it and returned it to the vault. After all, even though it’s goblin-made, it was in her vault, and we take theft very seriously.” Urzog then smiled, and the amount of pointy teeth shown made Harry shudder.

“Finally, we come to this diary you discovered. The size of the Horcrux within is much bigger than the one in the locket, which was the largest soul-piece we had found from the false Lord Voldemort. Before we received young Mr Black’s readings, we’d had the impression that the locket represented half of Voldemort’s soul, but we have since reanalysed our findings. The diary we believe to be half of his soul, then there is a missing piece which represents a quarter of his soul, then the locket at 12.5%, or an eighth, followed by the cup at 6.25%, a missing piece at approximately 3.1%, Mr Potter-Black’s piece at around 1.5%, and finally what we believe is the remaining piece, also known as Lord Voldemort himself.”

There was utter silence in the room as they all struggled to comprehend the absolute horror and gravity of what Voldemort had done. Finally, Remus spoke up. “Do you have any idea where the two missing pieces are?”

“I’m afraid not, Consort Lupin-Black. The location of the discovered ones offers no insight into the missing ones. The Horcruxes we have encountered so far are extremely well done, and do not have the tell-tale links that lead toward the maker, which indicates that they have been completely separated from his soul, and even if he wanted to, he could not make himself whole again if they still existed.”

Remus nodded miserably. Sirius then said, “We will keep you informed if we find any more, but I would like to request that you do the same for us.”

The goblin nodded. “I suppose that seems fair. Is there any other business we need to go over today?”

Draco piped up, “My father should be at lunch right now. Should I try to get it? I brought dragonhide gloves, just in case.”

Urzog gazed at Draco with a calculating look in his eyes, then looked to Remus and Sirius, who were extremely pale at the thought of Draco going back there.

“Why don’t you go with him, Pads?” suggested Harry. “That way, if it has a compulsion spell on it, you can prevent it from taking hold fully. Besides, you’re an auror, so you know how not to leave clues behind in these types of situations.”

Remus and Sirius looked at one another for a long moment, then turned to Draco. “If you’re willing, little cousin,” Sirius said.

Draco nodded, then called Dobby. After quickly explaining what he needed to the elf, Dobby grabbed a hold of him and Sirius, and with a soft _pop_ , they were gone. The three remaining in the room sat in a tense silence for five agonisingly long minutes. Finally, they returned, but straight away Harry saw that Draco wasn’t wearing gloves, and neither he nor Sirius held the small black book that Draco had previously described. “Where is it?” he asked, confused.

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again when words seemed to fail him. Draco said, “It wasn’t there. I let my magic search the whole room, and I couldn’t find it. I’m very sure that he wouldn’t risk putting it anywhere else in the house, so…” he trailed off, unsure of what else to tell them.

“That probably means he’s given it to someone else,” Remus said gravely. “Whether that person is an accomplice or a victim, it doesn’t matter. The point is that it’s gone, and until it reappears again, we’ve lost the trail.”

*

The rest of the holidays fluctuated between tense and fearful, until finally, with five days to go until the 1st of September, Sirius had enough. “Alright, that’s it! No more moping or stressing about. We are having a prank war, and that’s final!”

“Prank war?” questioned Draco.

“A very messy game,” Harry said sagely. “We take it in turns, from youngest to oldest, to prank the other people in the house. We each get one day to pull off a prank on every other person, and then on the last day, it’ll be all out war. It can be something as simple as a sticking charm to extra body parts, just as long as whatever the prank is will disappear from the victim within an hour or two. Basically anything goes, except obviously nothing illegal. Got it?”

Draco nodded, then his eyes lit up when Sirius handed him a well-thumbed notebook. “As this is your first prank war, you get the Lesser Marauder Grimoire. Lots of prank ideas in it, and all of them are easy to set up. Good luck, cousin,” Sirius said.

They all retreated to their rooms, or in Remus’ case, the library, and began to plot. By the end of the war, Harry’d been transformed into a bunny rabbit by Draco, made to speak in lymerics by Remus, his hair turned into leaves by Sirius, and numerous other pranks on the last day. In return, Harry had turned Draco’s entire body hot pink, made Remus see everything upside down, and cast a low-level glamour to make Sirius look like Severus. Even Enya had taken part in the prank war—she’d taken to tripping someone whenever they came close enough. His favourite prank though was when Sirius had cast a tricky charm on the last day that made all the water in the house become lemonade; even casting _Aguamenti_ would give lemonade instead of water. They all decided that the week of fun had been very much needed after learning the lengths to which Voldemort had gone in order to become immortal.

They woke on the first of September to Neville screeching downstairs. Harry and Draco hurried downstairs to see what the problem was, and found that Neville had been covered in mud from head to toe. “Oh, sorry about that, Neville. Completely forgot about that one,” called Sirius from two stories up. “I stuck a water balloon filled with mud to the ceiling. The sticking charm must’ve worn off overnight, and failed just as you walked underneath it.”

Neville was still gasping in shock from what had occurred, and managed to say, “This… is why I don’t… visit… during a prank war…”

*

Compared to the past week, the trip from Platform 9 ¾ to Hogsmeade Station was extremely uneventful. The trio found an empty compartment, and not much later had been joined by Hermione, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and Luna, although Ron excused himself soon after the Express started moving to go find his friends. Not surprisingly, Ginny was Sorted into Gryffindor, and Luna into Ravenclaw. A tiny, mousey-haired first-year Gryffindor (Harry was sure he’d never been _that_ small) by the name of Colin Creevey appeared so excited to be sitting near Harry, that he looked as though he might pass out at any given moment. The rest of the Welcoming Feast passed rather quickly, and Harry soon found himself tucked into his bed, listening to the sounds of his dorm mates sleeping, and then he succumbed to sleep as well.


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

“We’re doomed. Doomed, I tell you!” exclaimed Draco at breakfast. They’d all just been given their timetables by Professor McGonagall, and had discovered to their dismay that their third class of the day, after lunch, was DADA with Lockhart. Professor Snape, having heard his godson’s words from across the room due to the volume, snorted. Hermione, who was sitting opposite him and reading _Year with the Yeti_ while making frequent notes on mistakes and falsities, said, “Oh don’t be so dramatic, Draco. Yes, from what these books reveal, he doesn’t know one lick of defence, but with how badly it was taught last year, surely we ought to at least give him a chance to be better than Quirrel? I mean, he’s already better in terms of not being possessed by Voldemort.”

Draco scoffed, but Neville butted in before Draco could talk again. “She has a point, guys. Let’s at least wait until we’ve had him before we judge.”

“Easy for you four to say,” said Fred.

“We don’t have him until Friday,” explained George.

“I don’t have him until tomorrow,” said Ginny, “and I just checked with Luna, she doesn’t have him until Monday!”

The four second years groaned, and Harry banged his head on the table, barely missing a collision with his bowl of porridge.

Eventually, still bemoaning their fates, they headed towards the greenhouses. Unfortunately, they came across Lockhart much earlier than they should have, for there he was, striding beside Professor Sprout, immaculately dressed in sweeping robes of turquoise. In complete contrast to the perfectly coiffed wizard, Professor Sprout was a squat little witch, often wearing a patched hat over her flyaway hair. She reminded Harry of Neville during the summer; dusted with a large amount of earth, and dirty nails that would have made the old Draco faint, but now simply sniff.

“Oh, hello there!” Lockhart called, beaming around at the group of students waiting for their Herbology lesson. “Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow. Seems it got into a bit of a spat with some thestrals! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is!” He went on for another minute, nattering away on how he’d met many of them on his ‘travels’, with Professor Sprout becoming gradually more annoyed, until finally she called out, “Greenhouse Three today, chaps!” and ushered them in the correct direction. “We’ve never been there before,” whispered Dean loudly to Seamus.

The Professor unlocked the door and let the group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in, but just before Harry could follow Draco inside, Lockhart’s hand shot out to grab Harry’s shoulder. He stiffened. “Unhand me, _sir_ ,” he growled.

Lockhart smiled in what he must have assumed was a disarming manner. “Now Harry, dear boy, I just wanted to make sure that what happened in Flourish and Blotts was merely—”

Harry cut him off with a slash of his hand that also got rid of Lockhart’s grip. “It was no misunderstanding, _sir!_ I warned you not to touch me, and you have done exactly that, with around twenty witnesses. Leave, now, and by tomorrow I shall have a restraining order against you.”

Lockhart had paled as Harry spoke, and by his final sentence, seemed almost ready to faint. He picked up his robes and fled the scene, not daring to look back.

“Well done, Mr Potter-Black. You handled that situation admirably,” said Professor Sprout.

*

The rest of class went fairly smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could possibly get whilst Mandrakes were having temper tantrums all over the greenhouse. It made having to re-pot fifty of them extremely messy, and by the end of class, not a one of them was free from sweat, pain, and earth. The Gryffindors rushed back to the castle as quickly as possible so they could have a quick wash and a change of robes so they could get to Transfiguration on time.

Ron had the most trouble out of their group that lesson. He described it to the others as everything from first year having been washed away as soon as he’d handed in his last exam. They were going over how to turn a beetle into a button, a feat which was achieved perfectly by Hermione, then by Draco. Mid-way through, Harry succeeded, although his button still had the pattern that the beetle’s exoskeleton had had, and not ten minutes after that, Neville managed a partial transfiguration, with a shallow line down the middle instead of holes. Seamus accidentally blew up half of his desk, and the ensuing smoke caused Ron to squash his beetle with his wand because he couldn’t see it very well. McGonagall wasn’t happy.

Finally, the lunch bell rang, and they all traipsed into the Great Hall, ate their lunch, met up with the twins, Ginny, and Luna, then went outside into one of the courtyards. After happily spending the rest of the break with his friends, Harry led the way back inside, but before he reached the door, he almost bumped into Colin Creevey. Bright red, he stared up at Harry, clutching a Muggle camera. “All right, Harry? I-I’m Colin Creevey,” he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. “I’m in Gryffindor, too. D’you think—would it be all right if—can I have a picture?” He raised the camera hopefully.

Harry inwardly sighed. He’d met lots of people before who held the same sort of dumbstruck awe towards him before, and unfortunately, he knew of no way to counteract it. Fortunately for him, he had Draco. “Who’s your friend, Harry?” he asked.

Colin somehow blushed even more, and muttered something unintelligible. “Colin Creevey,” Harry answered. “He’d like a picture.”

“Ooh!” Hermione exclaimed, catching on. “I do so love pictures! Okay. Dean, Fred, George, you three in the back. Seamus, Ron, Neville, Draco, you’re on the right. Ginny, Luna, and I will be on the left, and Harry and Colin, you’ll be in the middle.”

Colin’s eyes were very wide now, but had to ask one question. “What about my camera?”

Dean stepped in. “We can hover it, and you can adjust the angle, then time-delay the photo.”

Colin was beaming now, and they all did as suggested. After the photo had been taken, Colin was almost in tears with how welcoming they’d all been. “ _Thank you!_ I’ve been really worried I wouldn’t fit in here. I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic until I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. I’d never really had many friends in school, so I was hoping I could find some.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing we’ve got an opening, Colin,” said George.

“You’ll fit right in!” said Fred.

“Really?” Colin asked.

They all nodded, and then the bell rang, prompting Ginny and Luna to lead him away to their joint History of Magic class.

“Well,” Draco sighed. “Time to face the music.”

*

The dreaded class started with Lockhart picking up Lavender Brown’s copy of _Travels with Trolls_ and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front. “Me,” he said, “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five times winner of _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most-Charming-Smile Award—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!”

He waited for them to laugh. No one did.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books—well, most of you have.” He frowned at Neville, Hermione, Draco, and Harry, although when he got to Harry, he looked more constipated than anything. “Ahem. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in…”

The questions were absolutely ridiculous, so the four of them decided their answers may as well be just as ridiculous.

_1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?_ **_Blue_ _—_ _no! Yellow_ _—_ _aaaargh!_ **

_2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_ **_To have his home filled with autographed pictures of himself._ **

_3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_ **_Convincing the Board of Governors that every student needs to buy every one of his books._ **

The quiz continued over three sides of parchment, all the way down to:

_54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_ **_His birthday was the beginning of the new financial year, and his ideal gift would be for every person, Muggle and wizard alike, to have purchased all his books._ **

Harry and Draco were sniggering at their answers as, half an hour later, Lockhart collected in the papers and rifled through them. “Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in—” He paused, and his ears turned redder and redder as he quickly flitted through the quartet’s answers. It was a good thing they’d decided not to put their names on them. He cleared his throat again. “I say so in _Year with the Yeti_. And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully—I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples—though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!”

The rest of the lesson was horrible as well. Lockhart had brought a small, covered cage with lots of extremely claustrophobic Cornish pixies inside. Harry was sure he could see one hyperventilating in their midst.

Then, he released them. Chaos ensued as Lockhart shouted, “Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies!”

He rolled up his sleeve, brandished his wand and bellowed, “ _Peskipiksi Pesternomi!_ ”

It did nothing to prevent the destruction of the classroom, and one of the pixies grabbed the wand out of Lockhart’s wand and threw it out of the already destroyed window. He gulped and ran from the classroom, leaving the second-years to clean up his mess.

Finally, after twenty minutes chasing down all the pixies that hadn’t escaped out of the window and immobilising them, they stuffed them into their bags and rushed out of the castle, across the sloping lawns, and arrived at Hagrid’s hut. “Hagrid!” Harry called out, knocking on the heavy wooden door.

“Yeah?” he asked when he opened the door. “Oh, it’s you four. What can I do fer yeh today?”

Hermione quickly took over the narrative, explaining how badly the creatures had been treated. If there was one thing Hagrid was passionate about, it was magical creatures, as was obvious by the dark, angry look that crossed his face as their tale unfolded.

In the end, he agreed to take the Cornish pixies and find a home for them, and they all had some tea before it was time to head back up for their next lesson. This was going to be a long year.


	7. Homicidal Murmurs

The new day dawned, and with it, came a beak tapping at the window of Harry’s dorm room. Luckily, all of the boys inside, other than Ron, were already awake. Harry opened the window quickly for Hedwig, and grinned in delight at the sight of the official-looking letter tied to her leg.

_Dear Mr Potter-Black,_

_Your request for a restraining order against one Gilderoy Marvin Lockhart has been approved. The memories you provided have been forthwith returned to your guardian, Lord Sirius Orion Black. The restraining order does not allow Mr Lockhart to come within_ _150 feet of yo_ _u, and stands for the time period of seven months. If you desire renewal of the order, please explain your reasons in a letter, and we will get back to you._

_Kind regards,_

_Amanda Urquart_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry showed the letter to his friends, and they congratulated him. “Wait, how is Defence going to work for you now? I mean, there’s a magical barrier that he can’t get past, so if you were still being taught by him, he wouldn’t be able to enter the classroom.” said Draco.

“Oh, Remus has been having a bit of a problem with getting jobs lately, and in my letter home, I asked if he could be my tutor,” Harry explained nonchalantly.

“So you’re just going to leave us to deal with him?” asked Neville, horrified.

“Of course not. You’re all coming too, and Hermione. I’m pretty sure that if I ask, Fred, George, probably Lee, and most likely Ginny, Luna, and Colin will all want to have their lessons with him instead. Sirius got it all approved by the Board last night, and let me tell you, Dumbledore isn’t happy. Be prepared for some revenge from him,” said Harry.

Dean was the designated wake-Ron-up person that morning, so after he’d done his job, and Ron had rolled out of bed and gotten as ready as possible, they made their way down to the common room.

“Hey, kiddos,” said George happily when he caught sight of them.

“Quidditch tryouts is this morning, during lunch. You all up for it?” asked Fred.

“Yes!” exclaimed Harry, Draco, and Ron.

“Good. Harry, you’re already _much_ better than Tate, so I’m pretty sure you’ll get the spot. Draco, we’re sorry but the most you’ll probably get is joint reserve chaser and seeker, and Ron, it’ll be reserve keeper for you. Wood’s the captain, and he wouldn’t give up his spot for anything.”

They all nodded, showing they understood, and then Harry showed Fred and George the letter, causing them both to break out into identical evil grins.

They rushed down to the Great Hall, where they waited impatiently for the owl post to filter in. Harry made sure to sit so that Lockhart was _just_ outside the boundary, so he wouldn’t realise what had happened until he read the order.

Finally, a tawny owl flew directly to Lockhart, and he opened his mail happily, probably expecting fan mail. As he read it, his expression became an odd mixture of fear and anger, although the latter emotion disappeared almost as soon as Harry saw it. Having already eaten his breakfast, Harry stood up, catching Lockhart’s attention, and strode to the doors of the Great Hall, where Remus had been watching the scene unfold. All of Harry’s friends followed him, and they left to go to their respective classes; Fred and George to Potions, Ginny, Luna, and Colin to Transfiguration, and Harry and his yearmates followed Remus outside. “I decided that since today was a nice day, we could have our first class outside,” he said.

*

“All right, people!” Oliver Wood called out. “The only way you’re going to get on our team is if you can prove you’re better than the person in the position you want. First off, let’s eliminate some people!”

Wood had all the hopefuls run two laps around the Quidditch pitch, and then take up their brooms and fly five laps. By the end of it, most of them were sweating heavily, although five people had dropped out. “This is what the Gryffindor team does every practice. If you can’t do it, you won’t succeed. Now. We’ll start with the Beaters.”

He separated all of the potential Beaters into random pairs, gave one pair some bats, and had them hitting bludgers at assorted targets, then put them up against the Weasley twins. As expected, Fred and George won each and every round, and they retained their spots, although Wood chose a third-year called Sean Madeley and a fifth-year called Dennis Chapman as their reserve Beaters.

Next were the Keepers. He had the current Chasers, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina try to score against the three who wanted to take his place. Out of ten shots, one didn’t stop any, a third-year called Cormac McLaggen stopped three, and Ron managed to stop four. Wood congratulated all of them, and said that Ron had earned a spot as the reserve Keeper.

After that, he called up the Chasers, and right away, Harry knew that none of them were anywhere near as good as the current trio. The only one even remotely close was Draco, since he’d talked it over with Wood beforehand, and had explained that he was going to try out for both Chaser and Seeker. As expected, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina kept their spots on the team, and Draco was chosen as the sole reserve Chaser.

Finally, it was Harry’s turn. Wood had him go against the current Seeker, Warren Tate, and try to catch the practice snitch first. As soon as Wood released the snitch, Harry kicked off and flew high into the air. He’d previously come up with a routine which he was rather proud of; he’d start in the middle of the pitch, turn in one full circle, then zig-zag across the pitch at differing speeds to throw the other seeker off, and stopping to look around every two or three zig-zags. Within five minutes, Harry spotted it right next to the left-most goal, and he zoomed towards it. Having already been going that way, he managed to mask the fact that he’d seen it until he’d caught it. He returned to the ground and showed the snitch to Wood, who looked dumbstruck. Harry grinned cheekily, and sat back down to watch Draco have his turn at humiliating Tate. Once that was over, Wood had Harry and Draco go against each other, this time setting the difficulty of the practice snitch higher, and the two of them sped off on a merry chase after it. In the end, though, Harry beat Draco because he spotted the snitch twenty inches above the ground, and dove down in a Wronski Feint. Draco, having been quite a ways away, had seen the snitch just after Harry had started his move, and gave chase, even though he knew that he had no chance of catching it. Wood, having gotten over his awe, was vibrating with excitement when Harry handed him the snitch, and shook his hand vigorously while exclaiming, “Oh you are most definitely on the team! This is going to be an _awesome_ season!”

*

Harry sat in the Room of Requirement a week and a half later, reading a book on undetectable potions and poisons as Blaise left the room after having finished catching up with Draco on what they’d done since the last time they’d met. It had been decided that every time Blaise could get away from his housemates and chat with Draco, at least one of the Recruits would escort him to the RoR with Harry’s Invisibility Cloak so that it was more difficult for anyone to follow them, and so that Blaise wouldn’t get lost. The twins, Neville, and Hermione were due in ten minutes so they could start planning the first prank of the year. It was only about an hour until the second-years’ curfew, and they wanted to pull an all-school prank the following morning, a Sunday.

Finally, the other members of their inner group trickled in, until they were all there. Harry handed out a copy of his notes to everyone, then said, “Okay, so this is the potion George was talking about yesterday. However, in the application section, it says it gives off the slight smell of molten plastic, and tastes like overcooked cabbage. So then I figured out that if you add two strands of shredded dipsweed after step three, then stir twice anticlockwise, it smells like boiled eggs, and then adding one more strand after step seven, it’ll taste like it too!”

Fred hugged him. “You’re a genius, Harry! What would we do without you?”

Harry blushed, but shook his head. “Draco was the one who found the correct reference book, so he deserves some credit as well.”

This time, it was George who did the hugging. “Draco, you ol’ rascal, you!”

They all laughed at Harry and Draco’s red faces, and then Hermione piped up. “I think it’s a good idea if Draco and I work on the first four steps, since that’ll take until just before our curfew, then you two,” she said, pointing at the twins, “finish off the rest of the potion, then sneak the vials into Neville’s trunk. Neville, tomorrow you need to set a silent alarm for five o’clock, since that’s when the house elves start making breakfast. Hand it over to them, tell them what it is, and remember to mention that it’s only a bit of harmless fun, then rush back into the common room, where I’ll have left a Herbology book out for you to read. For anyone who asks, you just woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. Since everyone knows you’re brilliant at Herbology, no one will question what you tell them.”

“Right,” said Fred. “Now that you’ve made all the plans, _breathe!_ ”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush, and everyone laughed.

Harry’s laughter was cut short by a voice, a voice that chilled his bone marrow, filled with breath-taking, ice-cold venom. _:Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…:_

“ _What?_ ” he said loudly, interrupting Draco saying something about not being able to wait for breakfast.

They all turned to look at him. “I-I heard a voice… It was talking about ripping and killing something,” Harry insisted.

Draco looked at the others. “I don’t think any of us heard anything, Harry. Are you sure you heard it?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” said Neville. “We believe you.”

“I think what Draco was trying to say,” Hermione started, “was whether you knew if it was your Magesight giving you a Vision, or if it was actually happening in the present.”

Harry strained his ears, trying to hear the voice again, but there were no sounds except for the other kids in the room, breathing. “The few true Visions I’ve had have always included visual representations, and all the other aspects I’ve encountered of my Magesight have just been really strong gut feelings. I haven’t read anything about Magesight that would explain hearing random homicidal voices, or voices of any kind for that matter, so I _think_ I actually heard it.”

They all thought over why none of them had been able to hear what Harry had, but were unable to come up with anything. “It’s no use thinking about it now,” Fred said. “Harry and Nev, you need to get back to the common room, and Draco and Mione, you need to start on the potion if you want to get it finished before your curfew.”

Agreeing with Fred, they all went about doing as he’d suggested, and Harry went straight to bed, trying to sleep, but his mind kept pulsing with what he’d just heard, and he wasn’t able to get to sleep until he heard Draco stumbling about in the dark, getting ready for bed, an hour later.


	8. Deathdays and Petrifications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm really sorry, but I'm going to be rather busy for the next two weeks with uni stuff, and I'm falling behind on writing chapters ahead of time, so I don't think I'll be publishing for the next two weeks. Expect a chapter on the 13th of April (or, at least, that's what it'll be for me in Australia).

Harry thought that giving everyone the snouts or noses of their inner animal was their best prank by far. Even the professors had been affected! Dumbledore looked hilarious with the snout of a goat sticking out from his long beard, and Severus’ bat nose was slightly disconcerting. However, it appeared that the prank had an unintended side-effect: those with full animal snouts could now only make the noises that their animal could, so the rest of breakfast just sounded like a zoo’s animals had been released in the Great Hall. Overall, Harry was happy with his ermine snout, Draco delighted in the forked tongue that his snake mouth provided, Hermione looked ridiculous with a Barn owl’s beak, Neville spent breakfast joyously roaring with his lion’s muzzle, and the twins looked hilarious with their identical chipmunk cheeks and mouths.

Hogwarts was actually downright peaceful for Harry and his friends with Lockhart unable to go anywhere near Harry, and so September faded into October without issue, causing a damp chill to permeate the castle. Madam Pomfrey was constantly found fussing over the latest cold victim, student or teacher. Neville, who’d gone to the Hospital Wing because Peeves had stuck out a suit of armour’s leg and tripped him up, thought seeing Snape in a pile of blankets and with a red nose, trying to bat away Madam Pomfrey’s hands as she tucked him in even more, was absolutely hilarious. Luckily, Snape was out of there quickly, since her Pepper-up Potions worked almost instantly, although they left the drinker smoking out of their ears for several hours afterwards. Even Ginny, Luna, and Blaise had managed to get a cold, and the smoke pouring out of the red-headed girl’s ears gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.

Hogwarts’ grounds were constantly muddy and miserable, but that didn’t stop Oliver from summoning his usual fanatic enthusiasm over Quidditch. The Gryffindor Quidditch team members were worked to the maximum extent humanly possible, and always returned to Gryffindor Tower drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

One stormy Saturday afternoon, during practice, Fred and George reported back to Oliver that an anonymous benefactor (“Ugh, my father’s impossible, isn’t he?” said Draco) had gifted the whole Slytherin team with Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The twins, having had turns riding on Harry’s and Draco’s brooms, knew how good they were, and so had decided that they were all royally screwed.

Once that day’s practice, which was even more torturous than usual, was over, Harry, Draco, and the twins made their way up to the Tower, and in a deserted corridor, came across a muttering Nearly Headless Nick. “… don’t fulfil their requirements… _honestly_ , half and inch, if that…”

“Hello, Sir Nicholas,” said Draco politely.

“Hello, hello,” the ghost said, starting and looking at the four bedraggled students. “You four look rather troubled.” He folded a transparent letter and tucked it inside his doublet.

“I’d say you look more troubled than we do,” remarked Harry.

“Ah,” he said, waving an elegant hand, “A matter of no importance… it’s not as though I really wanted to join… but apparently even if I wanted to apply, I ‘don’t fulfil requirements’.”

Fred and George shot each other a look at the extremely bitter expression on Nick’s face.

“But you would think, wouldn’t you,” he erupted, pulling the letter back out if his doublet, “that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?”

The four boys could see that Nick was extremely passionate about the subject, so to avoid another outburst, Fred stepped in. “Well, what about if you got the Bloody Baron to use his sword to help you? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt you, and you’ve got that ghostly letter, so a ghostly sword might do the trick, right?”

Sir Nicholas opened and closed his mouth like a fish a few times, then a huge grin came to his face. “Oh, yes! That just might work! Thank you, young Weasleys, and you two young Heirs, that’ll show that Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore!” He made as if to float off, then quickly turned around and said, “You four, and of course the young Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom, are all invited to my five hundredth Deathday party, on the thirty-first of this month. By the way, you should probably clean yourselves up before Filch finds you. He’s got the flu, and some third-years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five, so he’s not in a good mood. If he sees you four dripping mud all over the place…”

“Right,” said George, pulling his wand out of his sodden robes and cast a quick “ _Scourgify!_ ” at everyone, and the floor where he could see puddles and mud trails. When that was done, Draco raced off in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

“Where’s young Mr Black off to in such a hurry?” asked Sir Nicholas.

“Hospital Wing, probably,” said Harry, scribbling a note down on parchment for Filch. “To see if he can’t get some Pepper-up for Filch. He likes us a bit, you see.”

“Well then, good luck in that endeavour. In the meantime, I must be off, see if the Baron can’t help me with my problem,” Nick said, and proceeded to float through the floor in front of them.

Just as Draco arrived back at Harry’s side, out of breath and clutching a potions vial, there came a high-pitched mewing from the end of the corridor. “Mrs Norris!” called Harry, and she mewed again and trotted closer to the group. “Draco’s got a potion for Mr Filch. It’ll make him better, and stop him from sniffling. Will you take it, and this note, to him?” he asked, holding the potions vial and the note out to her. She mewed again, and took the two things carefully in her mouth and trotted back to where she came from.

*

By the time Hallowe’en arrived, Harry was wondering whether he and his friends could somehow go to the feast first, and then head off to the Deathday Party. He was sure that there wouldn’t be any food there, or if there were, then it would most likely be inedible. So, he wandered out of the Gryffindor common room about an hour before the Hallowe’en Feast was due to start, and knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door. “Enter,” came her stern voice.

Harry walked in and took the proffered seat. “Professor, my friends and I were invited to Nearly Headless Nick’s five hundredth Deathday Party, and we were wondering if we could maybe have an escort from the feast to the party, and then back after it’s finished.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised high on her brow. “I think I can manage something. How about I escort you there, then an hour later, Professor Snape picks you up. I seem to recall that you are somewhat friendly with him?”

Harry grinned. “Well, Draco’s his godson. He only tolerates me.”

McGonagall was sporting a smirk. “I suppose that makes sense, Mr Potter-Black. Who is it that Sir Nicholas has invited, exactly?”

“Er… me, Draco, Fred, George, Hermione, and Neville,” Harry said.

“Very well. Off you go, back to the Tower, and tell your friends that I expect you all to have finished eating enough in the half-hour between when the feast starts, and when the party starts, which I assume is seven o’clock?”

Harry nodded, and did just that.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick’s party had been lined with long, thin, jet-black tapers, which were all burning with a ghostly blue flame. This served to cast a dim light over the corridor, and the group then started hearing what sounded like lots of fingernails scraping a blackboard.

“Looks like they brought the band,” Fred joked quietly, causing the others to giggle. Harry swore he heard McGonagall snort behind them. They came across a doorway hung with thick, black velvet drapes, in which Sir Nicholas floated.

He nodded to McGonagall, then swept off his plumed hat and bowed, saying in a mournful voice, “My dear friends, welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…”

It was a horribly beautiful sight. Hundreds of translucent people were inside, each glowing with an unearthly pearly-white sheen. Some were conversing in a corner, whereas others were drifting around the dance floor, moving with the dreadful, quavering sound of musical saws coming from the orchestra on a platform.

“Shall we?” asked Draco, sticking out an arm on either side of him, so that both Harry and Hermione were able to take an elbow. Fred and George shrugged, and grabbed an arm of Neville’s each, which nearly made him lift off the floor.

“Just make sure not to walk through anyone,” Hermione whispered.

They saw all sorts of ghosts; gloomy nuns, the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff’s ghost, talking to an arrow-riddled knight; some ghosts even wore chains, including the Bloody Baron, whom all the other ghosts seemed to be avoiding. Draco decided to approach the Bloody Baron. “Good eve, my lord.”

The Baron blinked and slowly turned to face the three small students. Harry could see his silver bloodstains flashing in the eery light. “Good eve, child. What brings you three to such an event? Wouldn’t you rather be at the Hallows Eve Feast?”

“We just came from there,” explained Hermione. “Sir Nicholas invited us, since we helped him solve the problem of how to get accepted by the Headless Hunt. It did work, didn’t it?”

“Indeed, it did,” his deep voice said. “I was pleased for him, as he had been moaning about it ever since he first took up his post in this castle. This way, my ear does not get nattered off with his complaining.”

They went on their way, spotting Fred, George, and Neville doing a ridiculous three-way waltz on the dance floor. The rest of the party was enjoyable, if freezing, however they were all glad to see the form of Professor Snape in the doorway. They made their way through the crowd and greeted him, then followed him back along the blue-lit passageway in the direction of the feast.

However, Harry was stopped short when he heard the same chilling, murderous voice he’d heard before. _:…_ _rip… tear… kill…:_

He stumbled to a halt, causing Draco, who was right behind him, to stumble as well. “What—”

“It’s the voice again! The one from the RoR!”

_:… soo hungry… for so long…:_

“It’s… it’s hungry,” he said.

Professor Snape asked, “What voice? What’s going on, Potter-Black?”

Fred and George whispered short explanations to the Professor, and Harry heard it again, fainter this time. _:… kill… time to kill…:_

“It’s going to kill something!” Harry gasped, and set off at a run, trying to catch up with the voice, which seemed to be moving upwards. He heard the clattering of his friends’ and the Professor’s feet following him, but he concentrated on the elusive voice as he ran up the nearest marble staircase to the first floor. From the next floor up, he heard, _:… I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!:_

Finally, after having run up another flight of steps and stopping at the entrance to the last, deserted passage of the second floor, Draco and the others caught up with him. “ _What_ is going on, Harry?” asked Neville, wiping sweat off his face.

Snape gasped behind them all, and they turned to him to see him staring at something farther down the corridor. As they approached cautiously, they saw something red shining on the wall ahead. Foot high windows had been daubed on the wall between two of the windows. It shimmered in the light cast by the nearby torches.

  


_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

  


“Oh, no!” gasped Hermione. “Mrs Norris!”

There, hanging by her tail from a torch bracket above a large puddle of water, was Mrs Norris. She was stiff as a board, eyes wide and staring. Professor Snape quickly levitated the old cat off the bracket and laid her on the ground to examine her. “Petrified,” he muttered to himself.

“It’s odd, though,” Neville mused. “The Chamber of Secrets is a Slytherin thing, isn’t it?”

Draco nodded, then his eyes widened as he understood what Neville was saying. “Enemies of the Heir, as in the Heir of Slytherin.” He turned to Harry. “Got anything you need to tell us?”

Harry pushed him lightly on the shoulder. “Only that you’re a git. Seriously though, if whoever did this thinks they’re the Heir of Slytherin… then they don’t know the House has been claimed by me, so… wait. Voldemort wouldn’t know that I’ve taken the Heirship, since I’m going to bet he hasn’t had the time to stroll into Gringotts and check up on his savings.”

“You’re saying he’s back in the castle again?” asked Professor Snape, flummoxed at what he was hearing.

Harry nodded grimly. “That would explain the voice!” said George.

“Oh, yeah!” Harry said, slapping his forehead. “Parseltongue!”

“We’ve got a snake that can Petrify things, and from your actions, Harry, it can also move through walls,” said Fred, only half-joking.

“Why can’t I just have a normal year at Hogwarts?” Harry asked.


	9. The Writing on the Wall

To their dismay, Harry, Draco, Neville, Hermione, and the twins were now standing awkwardly, trying to comfort a sobbing Mr Filch in Professor Dumbledore’s office as he examined Mrs Norris.

Snape had quickly taken charge, vanishing the words on the wall after casting a few different spells to try to determine their origin, then removed Mrs Norris from the torch bracket and floated her, Disillusioned, behind him as he made his way to the Headmaster’s office. Not really having anywhere else to go, and wanting to see what the conclusion would be, the Marauders’ Recruits draggled along behind him. When Dumbledore finally came sweeping through the door, he stopped short at the sight of so many people in his office, then smiled genially. “Severus, children, what a surprise! What can I do for you?”

Snape quickly explained the scene they’d come across, as well as the cover story they’d all come up with to prevent the public at large from finding out that Harry was a Parselmouth (It wasn't an issue that his dorm mates knew, since they knew him well enough to never believe he could do something like that). Dumbledore summoned McGonagall, since they were all from Gryffindor and should therefore be represented fairly, then, once she’d arrived, he turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger, Professor Snape said you discovered him as you were on your way to the bathroom?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded, Occlumency shields on full.

“Why that exact bathroom, may I ask?”

“It was the closest one to where we were at the time, sir. Also, I knew for a fact that Moaning Myrtle wasn’t there, since I saw her at Sir Nicholas’ Deathday Party, so I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. However, I didn’t actually get to go, since we found Mrs Norris.”

“Albus, let her go to the bathroom,” chided Professor McGonagall. “There’s one just through that door, Miss Granger.”

Hermione put on a face of gratefulness and went through the door.

“Headmaster,” said Snape, “were you trying to insinuate that one of the students that _I_ was escorting, could have done such a thing? If I recall correctly, full Petrification of that sort is not taught in the Hogwarts syllabus besides a simple hex that can be counteracted easily, and besides, these second-years are on fairly good terms with the caretaker.”

And so, in due course, Mr Filch was summoned, both to confirm his relationship with the Marauders’ Recruits, and because it was Mrs Norris who had been petrified. They waited for a few minutes, and just after Hermione got back from ‘visiting the bathroom’, Filch knocked on the door.

“What’s going on here?” Filch asked once he’d arrived. Then, he saw Mrs Norris, and fell back, clutching his face in horror. “My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs Norris?” he shrieked.

Hermione quickly stepped in. “Professor Snape says she’s been Petrified, Mr Filch. I needed to go to the bathroom, so we detoured from our way to Gryffindor Tower, and we found her hanging from a torch bracket.”

“Oh, my sweet cat! Who did this to you?”

“Argus!” called Professor Dumbledore. “I have not yet had the chance to fully examine her. Why don’t you sit down and allow me?”

Visibly choking back tears, Mr Filch nodded and sat down heavily in the nearest chair, shaking. Dumbledore, having bent down to examine Mrs Norris, his nose barely an inch from her fur, didn’t seem to notice when Filch started sobbing quietly. Harry thought that if Mrs Norris weren’t Petrified, she’d be annoyed with the way the Headmaster was prodding and poking her.

Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close as Dumbledore, and Snape loomed behind them like a shadow. Mr Filch’s sobs were getting worse, so Draco handed him a hanky surreptitiously, which he took gratefully. Dumbledore started to mutter under his breath, tapping her form with his wand as he did so, but to no avail. At last, he straightened up and walked over to Filch. “She’s not dead, Argus. Severus was indeed correct in his examination.”

“Petrified?” asked Filch, sniffing. “Is that why she’s all—all stiff and frozen?”

“Yes. How she came to be this way, I cannot say.” He turned to Harry and his friends. “As for you six, consider yourselves very lucky that you did not meet whatever or whomever did this.”

Dumbledore nodded to himself, and Harry thought he saw a flicker of annoyance cross his countenance, but it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “Argus, we will be able to cure her by the end of the year. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes, and as soon as they have reached their full size, I shall have a potion made which will revive Mrs Norris.”

Filch sniffed once more, then stood up, swaying slightly. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

“You may go,” Dumbledore said to Harry and his friends, waving them off.

“I shall escort them to Gryffindor Tower,” decided McGonagall, and she shepherded them out the door, and up the many flights of stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

*

For the next few days, Filch alternated his whereabouts between the Hospital Wing and the corridor where he’d been told his beloved familiar had been attacked, as though the assailant might return. The next day, Dumbledore stood up at breakfast and announced that an anonymous group of students had discovered the scene, and that they should all be more careful when wandering the castle’s corridors alone.

Lots of the first- and second-years had started walking about in groups, looking tired and stressed, both because their exams were coming up in little more than a month, and because the story of one History class had escaped and created terror.

Hermione had been annoyed that she’d left her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ at home, and had resorted to asking the local History teacher about the subject they were all so interested in. When she put her hand up in class, Professor Binns looked dumbfounded.

“Miss—er—?”

“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets.”

For the first time since Binns was appointed to the post of History of Magic teacher, all of the students in the class were hanging onto his every word. What they learned in that lesson was quickly distributed to every available ear, mainly via Lavender Brown.

In order to find out about the possible monster within the chamber, Hermione had decided to commandeer the Room of Requirement for the time being. Whenever she could spare a moment, she dragged whichever one of her friends that also had free time there for research. She had discovered that she could ask the room for books on magical snakes, and it would provide copies of books in the library or students’ personal collections which pertained to that subject.

One such afternoon, Blaise walked in with Fred, under the Invisibility Cloak. He realised that he couldn’t see Draco at all, and that the room looked very different to how it normally was during his little get-togethers with his best friend. He had, of course, been told about what the Room could do, but he hadn’t fully believed it until that very moment. However, it was still very startling. “What the hell?” he muttered.

One large pile of books seemed to explode outwards, and Draco emerged from within. “Blaise, hi. You look terrible.”

Blaise raised one eyebrow. “You’re becoming less and less subtle as time goes on, Draco.”

“Ignore him, Dray. You’re still more subtle than I am,” said Harry from amidst another pile of books.

“Oh good, I feel so much better,” snarked Draco. “You’re the absolute epitome of obvious, Harry.”

“… I’m offended. Git.”

“Prat,” Draco shot back. He turned and saw that Blaise was watching their rally with an amused expression. “What?”

“The both of you are obvious, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Draco said and stuck his tongue out. “You didn’t answer my comment about how terrible you looked. You’re the one that’s slipping.”

Blaise ran his hands over his face and sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. With the amount of homework we have, and the internal politics of Slytherin… Everyone is pretending that they either _are_ this unknown Heir of Slytherin, or they at least know who he is. The truth is, though, that we’re all terrified that we’re going to be the next to be Petrified.”

“But you’re purebloods,” Hermione pointed out, looking up from the book she’d been perusing.

“True, most of us are. Some of us are half-bloods, though, and some are part creature. I, myself, am part Dark Veela, even though I advertise it as little as possible, but what if this Heir has the ability to sniff things like that out? Or—”

Harry snorted. “Whoever’s doing this, isn’t the real Heir of Slytherin. I am,” he said calmly, and held out his hand, on which the Heir ring of Slytherin shone brightly. “Neville’s the Heir of Gryffindor, by the way.”

“Yup,” said Neville from behind yet another pile of books.

“Is George, perchance, in here as well?” asked Blaise, sniggering.

“Back here!”

He turned to Draco, who shrugged. “The room can expand as much as you want it to. Also, yes, I already knew about Harry’s Heir status. I found out on the train to Hogwarts before first year.”

Harry walked over to Blaise. “I promise you, I’m not the one who Petrified Mrs Norris, and I didn’t write those words on the wall. We,” he gestured to all of them, “have a theory that this fake Heir person is actually Voldemort, since he wouldn’t know that when I destroyed his body when I was one, I basically conquered him, so his bloodline’s house transferred to me. After what happened last year, we think it’s more of the same.”

“A spectre?” asked Blaise, and Harry nodded.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe someone in Slytherin _does_ know where he is.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” asked Fred.

“If you think I’m suggesting that some of us use the cloak to snoop around the Slytherin common room for a while, maybe even their dorms, then yes.”

Harry whistled. “It’s a bit risky, Draco. Right now, they’re all really tense. Blaise said so, himself.”

“Well then,” said Hermione. “How about the day after everyone gets back from Christmas break? They’re bound to be more relaxed, and it’ll be more disorganised, so someone accidentally getting nudged when there’s no one close enough shouldn’t bring them down on us. Blaise, you could let us in, and then when we’re done, we’ll just slip out with someone else.”

Blaise gave a very put-upon sigh, but agreed, and the others all knew that the boy was excited at breaking the rules in such a way. He had successfully commandeered his way into the inner workings of the Marauders' Recruits, which meant that it was highly likely he would be participating in many, if not all, future pranks.


	10. Dungeons and Divorces

Draco could not stop laughing. He’d just overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about the homework they’d received from Lockhart; a poem about Lockhart’s defeat of a werewolf, whose existence was somewhat questionable in the first place. Harry was looking amused, both at the situation their poor classmates found themselves in, and at the fact that by this time, Draco’s laughter had turned silent, with the occasional noisy inhale, causing Draco to resemble a retarded seal. His rolling on the floor and the frequent clapping of his hands did not help matters. Then again, Harry was glad that Draco was able to enjoy himself to this extent, when Harry knew how stressed he was. He had nightmares more nights than not, and Harry was the only one who could wake him up and calm him down, and the only way Draco seemed to be able to fall asleep again was if he was in Harry’s bed. Draco never talked about what they contained, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out they had something to do with his father.

In fact, Draco’s worry was most likely centred around the plan the old and new Marauders had come up with together in order to free Narcissa from Lucius’ tyranny. In two days, the first Quidditch match of the season would take place—Slytherin versus Gryffindor—and all of the members of the Board of Governors would be attending, as was custom. However, Narcissa had packed as much as she could without tipping her husband off, and then, with Sirius’ aid, would get her marriage annulled.

Now, finally, the day had arrived, and Harry was currently trying to coax Draco with a bite of buttered toast. Just as he’d convinced Draco to open his mouth—

“But what if Father decides to leave in the middle of the game?”

Harry sighed silently. “Luna and Nev are standing by with the mirror. You know this, Dray, I’ve told you five times today alone. Please, for my sanity as well as yours, _relax_.”

Draco slumped dejectedly. “Sorry Harry, I just… I can’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong, and I know I’m being as paranoid as what Sirius says Mad-Eye Moody is, but she’s my mother, my mum, and I just want her to be safe.”

From Draco’s other side, Neville spoke, “We understand, Draco, but we’re kids, and okay, we may have been the ones to suggest the Quidditch match as the time to get everything done, but it won’t do you any good to worry.”

Just then, a regal-looking eagle owl landed in front of Draco, bearing a letter. Just as he was about to open it, a dark shadow fell over the three of them.

“Mr Black and… companions, I suggest you come with me at once, and explain yourselves.”

They gulped nervously; when Snape was using _that_ voice, the common reaction was to sink lower into one’s chair and regret any and every wrongdoing they’d ever committed. All three were confused, though. Their last prank, one of covering popular hang-out spots in invisible tar, had been over two weeks ago, and it had been Snape himself who had offered the idea to them (well, he hadn’t actually offered… it was more like he’d been ranting about the tar-like thickness of Crabbe and Goyle’s Forgetfulness Potion, and suggesting they use it to stick themselves to chairs in the library so they would _study properly…_ and the idea was born).

When they got down to Snape’s office, he turned to face them, cloak swirling. “All right, I believe we are safe now. Draco, you can open the letter from your mother now.”

Neville exhaled shakily, and Severus smirked, knowing exactly why he’d been so nervous.

Draco opened it gingerly.

_My dearest Dragon,_

_I have written to you today, because I know full well that you’re worrying yourself immensely. I promise, all will be well, and I shall see you again over the Christmas Holidays_ _—_ _this time, for the duration of the break, not just one measly afternoon._

_It would be unwise to inform you of exactly where I will be staying until then, but rest assured, I will be safe._

_Good luck in the game today,_

_Your Mother_

 

*Narcissa’s POV*

Narcissa was pacing anxiously in the music room when she felt the wards go off. Straightening up her robes, she made her way down twelve hallways and three flights of stairs, each more grand than the next, and finally entered the Entrance Hall. She motioned for the grand doors to open and allow her cousin in.

Sirius raised his eyebrows until they were almost at his hairline and whistled appreciatively. “This is some place, Cissy.”

She snorted in an unladylike fashion. “It may be fancy, Sirius, but it’s cold. Now, come and help me finish packing? I’m just about finished with the music room.”

Her cousin grinned good-naturedly with a dash of cheekiness, and motioned for her to lead the way. Half an hour later, all the instruments had been shrunk, the books packed, they’d collected the essentials (i.e. paperwork) from her office, and had packed all of her many robes and other outfits, as well as her jewellery. They were ready. Sirius checked in with Luna and Neville, who told him the score was sixty to zero to Slytherin, due to the combined factors of heavy rain and the superior Nimbus Two Thousand and One brooms the whole team had.

“Is Dora doing okay as me?” asked Sirius worriedly, and Neville simply turned the mirror so they could make out what looked like Sirius wearing all red and gold, and screaming himself hoarse for Gryffindor. Narcissa laughed out loud. “You look like you’re having fun, Sirius.”

Sirius agreed, and ushered her out the front doors and past the wards, then Apparated her straight to her eldest sister’s house, luggage in tow. The door burst open, and Andromeda came barrelling into her, sobbing in her ear. “Oh, Cissa, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it! Did everything go oday? How are you feeling?”

Narcissa smiled tremulously as she was let go. “I’m fine, Andi. All this stuff is mine, and Sirius and I still need to get to Gringotts and speak with Urzog.”

Andromeda exhaled shakily. “Right. Well, do that, then, and Ted and I will get all this inside.”

Sirius nodded and drew Narcissa to him again, then Apparated away. They popped into existence on the bottom step of Gringotts and rushed inside as quick as they were able. They were ushered into Urzog’s office and the goblin cleared his throat. “All went well, Lord Black?” he asked gruffly.

Sirius nodded, and said, “As Lord of the House of Black, I wish to annul my cousin Narcissa’s wedding to Lord Lucius Malfoy. While you’re at it, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to dissolve Bellatrix’s marriage, then fully disown her? She did, after all, have a Horcrux in her vault, and doing that would be a just punishment.”

Urzog grinned—or grimaced, it was hard to tell—and opened a drawer, taking out the relevant paperwork. “Sign here, here, and here, Lord Black.”

When that was done, two of the three forms glowed gold and disappeared. Urzog turned to Narcissa. “Madam Black, please sign here in this sub-clause, to signify that you are doing this of your own volition, and here, to prevent all contact, magical, owl, verbal, or otherwise between your son, whom you now have full custody of, and your ex-husband.”

This form, she signed without pause, and when that was done and it had turned golden and disappeared too, the two Blacks left Gringotts and went back to Andromeda’s. Just as they were about to make their way inside, Sirius was called on the mirror. “Sirius!” exclaimed Neville. “Harry got his arm broken by a bludger! He’s in the Hospital Wing right now. Oh, but he caught the Snitch, so Gryffindor won!”

*Sirius’ POV*

Sirius’ mind was a combination of the thoughts _Oh bollocks,_ and _Well done, Harry,_ as he checked Narcissa was okay and Apparated to Hogwarts. Upon his arrival in the Hospital Wing, he almost crashed into Harry and his friends as they made their way out. “Whoa, slow down there, Padfoot!” exclaimed Harry.

“Harry! You’re okay? Not in any pain?” he asked hurriedly.

Harry smiled lopsidedly. “Perfectly fine. It took about a second for Madam Pomfrey to fix my arm, and she gave me some Pain-Relieving Potion.”

Sirius’ eyes went wide. “The last time we gave you that, it was the commercially brewed one, and you ended up singing happily about turtle-shaped clouds bringing the end of the world.”

Harry’s smile got wider. Sirius gulped. “Oh, Merlin, she gave you that one, didn’t she? What’s the point of having the youngest Potions Master in three centuries if he can’t brew it without valerian root?” He sighed. “Come on, kids, let’s see what Severus has to say for himself.”

They ventured down to the dungeons, Harry starting to hum along the way, and Sirius desperately knocked on Severus’ door. “What?” the dour man snarled when he opened the door, then his sneer fell away from his face as he took in Sirius’ desperate expression, and Draco’s slightly bemused expression as he held onto a dopey-smiled Harry. He vaguely noticed that the Weasley twins, Hermione, Neville, and Luna looked just as bemused as Draco did.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sirius. What, may I ask, is going on?”

“Harry’s overly sensitive to the valerian root’s inebriative effects in commercial Pain-Relieving Potion, and for some reason, Poppy saw fit to give some of that to him, even though that’s in his file. Do you have anything for it?”

Severus furrowed his eyebrows. “I just gave her two new batches of that; one with, and one without valerian root. You’d be surprised how many people are sensitive to it in the same way.” He sighed and stepped away from the door. “Okay, you might as well all come in.”

The group made their way inside and sat down on assorted seats in Severus’ sitting room as he set up a quick decoction, then handed it to Harry. Harry sniffed the drink he’d been given and wrinkled his nose at the smell. “What _is_ this?”

“Bay leaf,” explained Severus simply. “It counteracts the effects of valerian if you’re sensitive to it. Drink.”

Harry gave a huge sigh, as if especially put-upon, but gulped the drink down in one, gagging slightly when it was gone. Then, slowly, Sirius was glad to see full cognition returning to his godson’s face, and the knot that had been in Sirius’ gut since he’d heard Harry had been hurt started to unravel.

*Lucius’ POV*

Lucius stormed into Malfoy Manor, looking for the cause of his current problem. True, he’d previously felt somewhat of a loss in the Family Magics when he’d disowned his former son, but it was nothing compared to this. The full amount of those Magics were now pressing down on him, which was never meant to happen. There should never simply be only one member of a House alive, _especially_ if they were the Lord of that House, and they’d previously had other members to ease the load. He sneered in distaste as he entered the music room, which was, for some unknown reason, his wife’s favourite room. However, his sneer fell away when he noticed she was nowhere to be seen. Confused, he made his way into her bedroom (he refused to share a room with her, since she was only there to provide him with an heir and to hold some of the burden of the Family Magics), and found she wasn’t there either.

The only other place he could think to find her was in the gardens, but he didn’t want to go traipsing through multiple gardens to try to find the one that interested his wife most today, so he summoned an elf. “Where is my wife?” he demanded.

The house-elf gulped, and stuttered out, “M-master has no wife… sh-she left not long after Master left for Hogwarts, and the elves all felt her cut the cord.”

Lucius saw red. He yelled and screamed at the useless little bat-eared thing, which was hitting itself with a closed fist for disappointing its Master, and when he eventually stopped, it suddenly occurred to him how bad this would look. He’d made sure to spread the news that his heir had betrayed his family, without giving specific examples… but now, his wife, whom if he remembered correctly, had supported her son, had fled him and somehow managed to divorce him without going through the courts and lawyers. This would come to the public’s attention soon, and he couldn’t lie and say that _he’d_ been the one to divorce _her_ , because any hungry reporter could easily find the annullment paperwork in the Ministry’s archives. Besides, he hadn’t heard any news that his little scheme had worked. Perhaps the little blood-traitor bint wasn’t as susceptible to the Mind Arts as he’d thought?

What was he going to do?

*Harry’s POV*

Harry and his friends said farewell to Sirius (After he’d promised dozens of times that Narcissa was okay and separated from Lucius), and made their way to the Gryffindor common room, where they were met by a frantic Ginny. “You guys! Colin went to see if he could remember the way to the kitchens that you’d shown him two weeks ago to get some food for the party, and McGonagall came in ten minutes ago and said that Colin had been found Petrified!”


	11. Hagrid's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I missed my update day! To be honest, the only excuses I have are deciding that it would be a good idea to stay up until 6 a.m. reading a newly discovered fic, then sleeping until 3 p.m., then having to work on an assignment. Then, when I would have uploaded it, we had a power outage until 8 p.m. Today, I've been working on my assignment again, and I've handed it in, finally, so now I can give you guys this!

****

By Monday, the entire school had heard about Colin’s Petrification, and the Hogwarts rumour mill was now pumping overtime as the castle’s inhabitants became increasingly suspicious of one another. The first-years were the most affected, and could be seen only moving about the castle in large, tightly-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured outside of their common rooms alone. Ginny and Luna, who sat with Colin in Charms, were quite upset, and reported to the others that all their classes were quite tense and filled with apologetic looks toward them.

Blaise, their only contact in Slytherin, looked more tired and stressed than he had the last time they’d met up, and during a quiet moment alone with Draco, was able to inform him that his common room was basically a war zone; fights were breaking out in a frenzied attempt to narrow down who this mysterious Heir was. It seemed as though now that it was an actual person that had been Petrified, blood purity didn’t matter to them, and all they wanted to do was neutralise the threat as soon as possible.

Harry had spoken to Enya, who liked to roam about the castle and grounds, Disillusioned, whenever Harry had class, about if she’d heard anything unusual when the attack had happened. She told him, _:No, I heard nothing, snakelet. However, I did sense an extremely large serpentine presence, one bigger than your dorm room. The unusual thing was that I felt it was inside the wall, which is impossible and most disconcerting.:_ Harry relayed this to his friends, and they were all just as nonplussed as he was about the information.

Meanwhile, an almost black-market trade for talismans, amulets, and other protective devices had started. The teachers seemed blind to it, and it was only when the twins started selling slips of parchment with the incantations for the Disillusionment Charm and three variations of the Shield Charm written on it, that the trade slowed down. Instead, it was now common to find groups of students of all ages hunkered down in a corner, swishing their wands and muttering, trying to master spells that were actually helpful in protecting them. Fred and George found themselves with mixed feelings when the number of inter-house hexing incidents lessened substantially due to almost everyone knowing how to protect themselves. Now they were harder-pressed to successfully execute pranks on people, which was slightly irritating their status as Prank Masters. On the other hand, House unity was increasing, slowly but steadily, as people started to hear rumours of how hard the Slytherins were trying to prove that they weren’t the cause of the problem.

There had even been talk of a Duelling Club starting up in the third week of December, due to the amount of people hoping to learn more defensive spells. However, as it was only the first week of December at the moment, the Duelling Club was a while away for the twelve-to-fourteen year-olds, and it was made moot when the Recruits were informed by Professor Snape that the one in charge of the club was none other than Lockhart himself. They all ended up simultaneously deciding that they wouldn’t be there, and instead they’d managed to convince Remus to teach them some duelling techniques, and they were positive they’d learn much more in their lesson than what the rest of the school would from Lockhart (as had already been proven during their previous lessons with the werewolf). Besides, the end of term exams were coming up, and the Recruits were all being encouraged to study by Hermione who, although she’d calmed down a lot since meeting Harry, Draco, and Neville, was still determined to make sure that each of her friends passed any and all tests with flying colours.

The day after the supposed Duelling Club meeting had happened, something else came to light for Harry and his friends. As they were relaxing in the Room of Requirement and laughing about what they’d heard their other friends say about the disaster the Club had been, Dobby popped in and gave his usual report to Draco, but something stood out. “ _Again?_ ” asked Harry. “The Chamber’s been opened before? When?”

“Dobby does not know. That was all Dobby heard Dumbledore speaking about in the teacher’s meeting. Old Master is meeting with no one sinister, and does not talk much to himself besides muttering and screaming about what people think about Mistress Cissa leaving him, and then he destroys a room. Nothing about the Chamber.”

“Well,” started Neville, “who’s the oldest person at Hogwarts, besides Dumbledore? Maybe we could convince them to tell us if they know something.”

“McGonagall?” suggested Hermione.

“Nah, she wouldn’t go for it, and she’d be suspicious why we want to know,” pointed out Ginny.

“Besides,” added George, “She might tell Dumbles of her suspicions, and that could get bad.”

Luna piped up. “The person you’re looking for would tell Dumbledore anything, but I doubt he’d bring us asking these questions to him. It would embarrass him too much.”

The group furrowed their brows and thought about who would tell the old coot everything. Then, slowly, recognition dawned on their faces, and they all exclaimed, “Hagrid!”

Faster than Luna could have said blibbering humdingers, the entire group rushed out of the Room, and tried to make their way out of the castle towards the familiar sight of Hagrid’s hut. However, they’d momentarily forgotten about the blizzard that covered the school in howling winds and large drifts of snow. Luckily, they came across Hagrid as he was making his way to the Great Hall with a huge Christmas tree in tow. Draco took charge and levitated the tree quickly as the others did the same, impatient to know if Hagrid knew anything or not. Once the tree was set up where Professor Flitwick wanted it, they invited him to sit with them at the Gryffindor table after Flitwick kindly enlarged the table slightly at their end and levitated Hagrid’s normal chair to rest where the group was. Hagrid smiled happily when he saw that Harry and his friends wanted to spend time with him, and his smile widened at what Flitwick had done “Well now, what can I do fer you all today?”

“We need to ask you some questions, Hagrid,” Fred stated after the house-elves had given them some tea and biscuits.

Hagrid furrowed his brows slightly, but then shrugged and made himself up some tea the way he liked it. “Yeh’ll be wantin’ some o’ this tea, then.”

When everyone in the group had a teacup in their hands, Hagrid asked, “So what was it yeh wanted to ask me about?”

Ginny started. “Well, we were thinking about the attacks that happened, and we thought to ourselves, ‘who would know anything about it?’”

Neville took over. “We thought of you, Hagrid, because you hear and know a lot about Hogwarts.”

“Besides,” added Hermione, “You’ve been here for ages, and we’ve heard some rumours about how the Chamber was opened before, so out of anyone, we thought you might have heard something about last time.”

Hagrid looked down at the floor, an almost ashamed look on his face. “That’s mighty kind of yeh, and I do know summat about it. Only… it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Luna stepped in. “Don’t worry, Hagrid. We won’t judge you, and if you want us to, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Unless it’s a matter of life and death,” piped up Draco.

Hagrid gave a half smile. “All right, you lot. Yeh’ve convinced me, but I would like it if yeh didn’t tell anyone, like you said, Luna.”

They all quickly agreed. “The rumour you all heard is true. The Chamber _was_ opened before, about fifty years ago, really. It was me third year, and the school was panickin’, there were rumours that the school might be gettin’ closed down. That would’ve been horrible for me, see, since me dad had died over the summer, an’ I didn’t know where me ma was, so I would’ve had nowhere to go if it had.

“Then, a girl from the year above me, Myrtle Warren, was killed in a bathroom by whatever the monster was. The teachers decided that they were definitely going to close the school, and so I had to tell Aragog, my Acromantula, that he had to leave. I’d almost managed ter convince him, when suddenly Tom Riddle, the Slytherin’s sixth year prefect, burst in on me. He said that he was gonna turn me in, that Aragog was the monster in the Chamber, but I knew he wasn’t. Aragog was mighty scared of whatever it was, he didn’t want to leave his box, let alone the room I had him in. Also, I know a lot about Acromantulas, they can’t Petrify no-one, let alone kill yeh without leaving a mark.”

Harry and the others were captivated by his tale. “What happened then?” asked George breathlessly.

“Riddle brought me ter the Headmaster, Dippet, and said I was the one who opened the Chamber. Gave all this fake evidence, and the Headmaster believed him. He called the other teachers, and Riddle told everyone his story. The on’y one who thought I was innocent was Dumbledore. He was basically what McGonagall is now: Deputy Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor, and Transfiguration Professor. He couldn’t do anything to stop them from expellin’ me, but he convinced Dippet ter let me stay on as Groundskeeper. Great man, Dumbledore, great man. Now, is that all yeh wanted ter ask me?”

Most of them closed their gaping mouths, and all of them nodded, finished their tea, and thanked him as they left. They had a lot to think about.

Hermione halted in her tracks as they made their way back up to the seventh floor. “Myrtle…” she whispered.

“What?” asked Fred.

“Hagrid said the girl who died was called Myrtle. There’s a ghost in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor, and she’s called Moaning Myrtle.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, brilliant deduction, Hermione! A girl who died in a bathroom and a ghost that haunts a bathroom both have the same name. They simply _must_ be the same person.”

“And even if that’s not the case,” added Luna, “surely she would know something about the girl that died.”

Even though the group had rushed down to find Hagrid not too long ago, they all suddenly found enough energy to rush back down in the direction of the second floor, so eager to find out if they’d solved another part of the puzzle. However it was not to be, since McGonagall came across them as she was making her way to Gryffindor Tower. “Where have you all been? Never mind that, Gryffindors go to your common room, I shall escort Miss Lovegood to Ravenclaw.”

“Wait, what’s happened, Professor?” asked Hermione, confused.

“There has been another attack, Miss Granger. Sir Nicholas and Mr Finch-Fletchley were found Petrified in a corridor off the Charms classroom.”

“Petrified?” asked George to the group as they walked quickly up staircases towards Gryffindor Tower. “How can a ghost be Petrified?”


	12. Three Christmases: Family, Formal, and Full of Hope

For the remaining few days of term, the group was unable to break away from their classmates to talk to Moaning Myrtle as they would have liked to. This was, in part, due to the remaining end of term exams, but also due to the stringent rules which were enforced in order to protect the students from whatever was attacking the students.

So, they all decided to leave their mystery of the year until after the Winter Holidays, and instead took it upon themselves to study for the tests as much as possible. Unfortunately, the Room of Requirement was almost entirely impossible to get to very often, as the only two adults they’d shown the Room to were Remus and Severus. Remus was only there for their bi-weekly Defence lessons, and he left straight afterwards, so he couldn’t escort them there very often, but Severus was often available straight after breakfast, and he made sure to escort them to wherever they needed to go when they were done.

Finally, the holidays were upon them, and Harry was happy to see his godfather again. Draco also felt himself at peace when he was in Grimmauld Place, so he enjoyed spending time inside with Harry, Pads, and Moony as the small garden became completely covered in a white blanket of snow. It had been organised that both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day would be spent at the Burrow, and so the two days beforehand were spent by the residents of Grimmauld Place in a relative frenzy, shopping for all of the necessary presents in both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds.

In response to Mr Weasley’s love of Muggle things, Harry got him some batteries and a packet of assorted rubber ducks, Remus and Sirius got him a hair-dryer, and Draco settled on a cheap toaster after becoming fascinated with it. Mrs Weasley got some packets of cooking herbs and several Muggle sauces which they were sure she’d never heard of, but would nevertheless hopefully enjoy. Ron would receive some moving figures of the Chudley Cannons from Harry and Draco, and a brand-new Wizarding Chess set from Sirius and Remus. The twins got some Muggle joke shop items, since they’d mentioned they wanted to experiment with them and see if they could make magical versions. Percy was going to be given books on etiquette in both the Muggle and Magical worlds, for he had revealed that he wanted to know about the differences there. Oliver Wood, who’d happily agreed to be Percy’s boyfriend two weeks prior, was going to receive overall Quidditch strategy and history books. For Ginny and Luna, the four bought chaser strategy books and magical creature books respectively, and Neville had been promised a Grow-Your-Own-Gillyweed kit. Colin wasn’t able to make it to their get-together this year, but an assortment of Wizarding candy and proper photography paper was being owled to him. Blaise, on the other hand, had convinced his mother to let him come on Christmas Day, although she had decided to attend as well, just to make sure Blaise was happy there, so some Muggle make-up was purchased for her so that she could decide whether to include some in her line of beauty products. Narcissa, the Tonks family, and Severus were attending as well, so Narcissa was also going to be given some Muggle make-up, the Tonkses would be given some Wizarding candy, since they weren’t really known all that well in their social circle yet, and Severus would be receiving rare Potions ingredients from around the world (This was one of those times when Apparating was so useful). Finally, Madam Longbottom would receive some Muggle high society hats, and Phil Lovegood was due to receive some tickets to London Zoo.

Christmas Eve was relatively relaxed, with the Recruits happily sitting around the fire and roasting marshmallows while whispering about ideas for pranks they could pull off. Their favourite, so far, was to leave some paint-filled balloons out in the open for Peeves to find, along with a note that said it was necessary they be used on Ravenclaw students. They’d chosen Ravenclaw, because Luna had mentioned being teased by those in her house when none of the others were with her. However, their first prank of the term was planned for the first night, at dinner. In order to find out if there were any potential ‘Heir of Slytherin’ helpers when they infiltrated the Slytherin common room, they needed to know what everyone was feeling, so they’d decided to have a potion find its way into dinner, via Dobby working in the kitchens, which would make everyone’s hair act as a mood ring. Fred and George had made a start on the potion as soon as they’d got home, and it would be finished by the middle of next week.

Christmas Day dawned, and the four flooed to the Burrow, arms absolutely overflowing with presents, and made their way to the Christmas tree. That day was completely chaotic for all involved. The sheer amount of wrapping paper involved truly boggled the mind, however Luna took all of it once it had been discarded by the others and said she’d found a Chartavorous Snapping Turtle in a nearby river, and was certain that the wrapping paper would be greatly appreciated. No one was quite certain what to make of that statement, but as with all other things Luna, they had learned not to question what she said, since she was rarely ever wrong.

Harry was most happy with the Bowtruckle Locator from Neville, as it would help him to find eligible wand wood trees, and Draco was ecstatic with the knife he was given from his godfather, which could apparently cut through anything and open every lock. Another thing Harry had discovered, was that he was starting to get little fluttery sensations in his stomach whenever he was particularly close to Draco, which did not help in the slightest when, due to the lack of seats in the Burrow’s living room, the two were forced to share a seat as they were opening presents after a wonderful Christmas breakfast, and that was when he noticed how warm Draco’s leg was.

*Lucius’ Christmas*

In a complete opposite to the comfortable chaos that was the hustle and bustle of the Burrow, the Great Ballroom of Malfoy Manor was filled with stuffy purebloods from Dark families who all wore the latest fashions. In the middle of it all, Lucius Malfoy danced a stiff and uncomfortable waltz with Lady Parkinson. As the night went on, full of thinly-veiled insults and the ever-continuing search for more power, Lucius actually discovered that he somewhat missed his wife and son. Oh, he and Narcissa had never loved one another, and he was constantly disappointed in his son’s Gryffindorish tendencies, but there was still some form of companionship formed when he’d spent so much time with them; sardonic expressions to one another across the hall when Lord Burke made a fool of himself in front of the young heiresses present, or those few and fleeting moments when he saw that his son was actually being a proper heir and reminding him of himself.

However, Lucius couldn’t fault his decision to disown his son, even if it did lead to his wife leaving him. He had made sure her name was spoken of similarly to her Muggle-lover of a sister in his circle. What he failed to realise, however, was that many of those in the social circle he considered himself a part of, viewed _him_ in distaste, rather than his ex-wife and disowned son, as did the majority of the Wizarding world. Lucius always held himself and those he considered family to an impossible standard, and while that had been a good thing when their Dark Lord had been in power, nowadays most had realised that in order to be viewed as superior to the general public, they had to appear accepting of the Light.

That night, Lucius sat alone in front of the fire, nursing some scotch, while off to the side sat the Christmas tree which had remained barren of presents for the whole day. It was, without a doubt, the most lonely Christmas he’d ever had, and in fact, the most lonely he’d ever felt in his entire life. Unfortunately, he still didn’t realise he was the one to blame, preferring instead to yet again push the blame onto the child that was once his son. There would be many more lonely Christmases in his life before he realised the truth.

  


*Filch’s Christmas*

Argus didn’t want to get out of bed today.

He just couldn’t go about his day, eat food in the Great Hall with over-the-top cheery teachers and students, and pretend everything was fine.

He just felt so alone.

His melancholy attitude was disrupted by the soft pop that signified a house-elf appearing in the room. He rolled over, sniffling, and was suddenly face-to-nose with the intruding elf. “Dobby was told to give this to Mister Filch, sir,” the little thing said, holding out a small vial of green liquid. Nonplussed, he took the vial, and the elf popped out of existence again. He looked back down at what he held in his hands, and noticed a small folded piece of parchment attached to the bottle. He opened it and read what was written on it.

_Dear Argus,_

_This vial is full of enough Mandrake Restorative Draught to revive a_ _certain_ _Petrified cat. The only real reason no more than this was made was due to the cost the freshly-picked Mandrake leaves would have cost to make enough for the other Petrified victims. If you don’t believe what is written here, take this vial to Madam Pomfrey._

_Happy Christmas to you and Mrs Norris,_

_Harry Potter-Black and friends_

For long moments, Argus simply stared at the familiar writing in shock and wonder, then rushed to put on his nearest outfit and hurried out the door, then hurried back when he realised he’d left the miracle cure behind.

He rushed into the Hospital Wing, startling Poppy in the process, and took a moment to catch his breath. “Whatever is the matter, Argus?” asked Poppy.

In answer, he held up the vial in his hand and pushed it into hers. “Mandrake Restorative Draught, from Potter-Black and his friends. Enough for Mrs Norris.”

Poppy’s eyes opened wide as she looked at the potion. A muttered spell and a swish of her wand later, she confirmed it was, indeed, what Argus had said it was. “The leaves alone must have cost quite a bit… Perhaps they persuaded Severus to brew it once they’d all chipped in on the ingredients? Oh, never mind. However they managed it, it has been made perfectly, and will work almost instantly.”

She made her way over to the makeshift cat-bed area she’d set up when Mrs Norris was first Petrified, and carefully poured five drops onto Mrs Norris’ furred body, then poured the rest of the potion into the cat’s mouth. She gently rubbed at the cat’s loosening throat to ensure the decoction was swallowed, and was satisfied when she saw her stirring from her forced slumber.

“Oh my sweet cat!” exclaimed Argus when he saw her movement. “I’m so glad you’re back!”


	13. Cloak and Dagger

Eventually, it was time to pack their trunks again and return to Platform 9 ¾ for their trip back to Hogwarts again. It was also the day that they’d previously planned to sneak into the Slytherin common room, and the first half of the train journey was understandably tense because of that. However, as Wizarding children are wont to do, the seriousness of the situation was quickly discarded for several Exploding Snap games, followed by the sweet trolley visiting, which was then followed by even more Exploding Snap. However, the mood was brought down by Blaise’s entrance halfway through the trip. “Hey guys,” he said, with huge bags under his eyes.

“Blaise!” exclaimed Draco, jumping up and leading his friend to a seat. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted!”

Blaise sighed and smiled sadly. “My stepfather died from Muggle skin cancer two days after Christmas. He was a half-blood, and the Muggle side of his family had a semi-regular history with cancer, but we all thought that his magical side had strong enough magical cores to counteract Muggle sicknesses and diseases. I really liked this one, and Mother did too. It’s just been a really stressful week with trying to arrange the funeral and stuff.”

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Hermione. “I’m so sorry, Blaise.”

All the others in the compartment did their best to comfort him as much as possible, and although it was obvious that they couldn’t do much, you could see it in Blaise’s eyes that he still appreciated that his friends were at least trying. When the silence got a bit too oppressive, Blaise asked what they were doing, and when he discovered the game they were playing, he decided it would do him good to have some fun, so he joined in.

When the automated voice announced that they would be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes, that tension that had been present at the beginning of the journey was rediscovered, and seemed to have been multiplied while they weren’t paying attention.

Neville swallowed uneasily. “Okay, so let’s all go through the plan one more time. Just to be sure.”

“Okay,” agreed Fred. “George and I prank everyone at dinner tonight, making everyone’s hair become mood rings of a sort, and take the blame for it.”

“The prank will make it easier for you guys to see if anyone’s got dark thoughts, or simply feeling guilty,” added George.

“I’ll meet you three in the Entrance Hall,” said Blaise, “and we’ll go straight to the common room, where I’ll let you in.”

“Colin, Ginny, Neville, and I will make sure to distract the rest of Gryffindor if anyone asks where you three are,” said Hermione.

“It’s easier for me, since most of the Ravenclaws won’t even notice I’m gone,” Luna said airily.

“I still wish you’d tell us the names of _everyone_ behind the bullying, Luna,” sighed Neville. Luna just shrugged, but when she said nothing, he kept going. “Okay, you’ll go through the years from lowest to highest. Blaise, you said there isn’t any boy trap thing over the entrance to the girls’ entrance, right?”

Blaise nodded. Harry took over. “We do boys first, then backtrack and get through to the girls, where Luna will look into the dorms first to check that they’re all decent, then we go in. The prank should work for three hours, so that’s our time frame.”

“After we’re done,” finished Draco, “I’ll split from you two and visit Severus, and Harry, you escort Luna up to Ravenclaw, and then go back to Gryffindor.”

By the time they’d discussed every contingency of the plan, the Express had arrived in Hogsmeade Station, and it was time for them to disembark. “Dobby?” called Draco quietly, and the little elf popped into being before him. “Do you have the potion Fred and George gave you?” he asked.

Dobby nodded, his eyes huge and his ears flapping. “Dobby has all of it, sir. It will be added into dessert as soon as it’s being made.”

“Good, thanks Dobby.”

Dobby looked absolutely ecstatic at being thanked, and promptly popped away again. The Recruits got into a carriage and after about ten minutes, they were seated at their respective tables, eager to both see the results of their prank, and to possibly find out more about their mystery Heir. Once dessert arrived, Fred and George were practically bouncing in their seats. Ten minutes in, there was suddenly lots of clashing colours everywhere. Most of the people’s hair was either yellow, which meant they were happy, or orange, which meant they were calm and peaceful. Some teachers’ hair was a dark brick red, which stood for anger, and Dumbledore appeared to be exceptionally so. As soon as the prank struck, many people’s hair turned green, for envy, and those involved in the prank were varying shades of purple, which meant pride. However, the funniest to look for were the pink people. Harry noticed that Percy and Oliver were an astoundingly hot pink, so obviously their relationship was going well. He knew that if he looked over at the twins right now, he’d see them very obviously congratulating each other, and one glance at the Head Table caused him to notice that a light blue-haired McGonagall was already making her way down to the twins. Harry had to stop himself from laughing out loud at the colour she was sporting, for it clearly indicated that she found the prank extremely humerous, and was probably holding back laughter.

“Misters Weasley, you will come with me and explain yourselves,” intoned McGonagall, and that was when the twins saw her hair colour, and their hair promptly became a very light blue as well. They were escorted out of the room, and then a still brick-red Dumbledore (his face now almost matched his hair) stood at the podium and bade the students to go to their common rooms. Draco and Harry snuck away from their housemates when they got to the Entrance Hall, and were quickly joined by Luna and Blaise. The five of them quickly entered the closest empty classroom, where Draco, Luna, and Harry hid themselves under the latter’s Invisibility Cloak, which he’d taken from his trunk and slipped into his robe pocket shortly before they’d arrived at Hogsmeade Station. He was extremely glad that the Cloak was so lightweight and compact, otherwise they would have had to go up to their dorm to get it first.

Blaise walked down a few dungeon corridors, seemingly alone, then stopped in front of what seemed to the others like a blank wall. He whispered something to it and, to their amazement, the wall, or rather a door concealed _in_ the wall, slid open. Blaise walked through it, and the three hidden students hurried in behind him. The Slytherin common room was a long, low room, made up of rough stone walls. The similarly textured ceiling had round, greenish lamps hanging off it on chains, giving the entire room a cold, formal, slightly eerie feel. Ahead of them, they saw an elaborately carved mantelpiece, the fireplace under which contained a merrily crackling fire. The common room seemed to be split into two areas; the studying section, which consisted of numerous desks and chairs, and a few bookshelves, and the section obviously designed for relaxation, which was filled with green leather couches and armchairs.

After taking the room in, the three noticed that Blaise had seated himself on a couch close to the fire, and was currently reading a book. The rest of the common room was almost bustling with relaxing teenagers, however the majority still upheld a regal air despite the change in hair colour. Unfortunately for the three spies, most of them had light grey hair, which signified slight anxiety. Only three people in the whole common room had black hair, which showed the presence of dark thoughts: Blaise, Marcus Flint, and a sixth year girl. However, the girl only had black hair when she looked at a nearby boy, and whenever he accidentally met her death stare, his hair became very dark blue, which signified sorrow, so it seemed like they’d just broken up. Blaise’s dark thoughts could also be easily explained away, so that just left Flint.

The three quickly made their way down the hallway that Blaise had earlier said was the entrance to the boys’ dorms, and entered the first years’ room, which was luckily already open, and completely empty. “Okay, guys,” whispered Harry, “Open yourselves to the room, and try to find a dark aura.”

They did so, but Luna stopped after a few seconds. “I can’t feel anything. I don’t think it’s in this room, but I almost feel like there’s something masking my ability. I noticed it as soon as I walked into the common room. I’m sorry guys, I’m of no use here.”

“Don’t worry about it, Luna,” soothed Draco. “I’m also finding it a bit difficult in here. How about you, Harry?”

Harry simply nodded. “What do we do then?” asked Luna.

“We keep ourselves open. Even with something trying to block us, we should be able to feel at least a smidgeon of what we’re looking for, if it’s really as dark as Draco explained,” said Harry.

So, they moved onto the second-year dorm, and while they did feel a slightly dark presence in the room, Harry noticed it came from a ring lying on a desk, and the trunk at the end of the closest bed had the Nott coat of arms on it. Draco looked at it more closely and examined its aura, then said, “It looks like some sort of protective ward. It’s certainly dark, but the darkness is entwined with this… protective feeling. If I had to make a guess, I’d say this protects the wearer from weak curses or poisons, and turns the effects back onto the caster or brewer. This is complex magic.”

The trio made their way through the other five dorms, but found nothing else of note, except for a cane which, according to Luna, would cripple anyone who used it, unless their blood was tied into the curse on it. Then, they worked through the girls’ dorms, only a little bit slower because there were a few girls in two of the dormitories, and they had to wait until they’d left.

Thoroughly disheartened that they hadn’t found anything, and their mystery’s trail had become cold, they left the common room as a prefect entered it.

*Draco’s POV*

Draco appeared in front of Severus’ quarters, seemingly out of nowhere and alone, and knocked on the door, which was opened almost immediately. “Draco, what a pleasant surprise,” said Severus, and let his godson in. Once he’d closed the door, he said, “It’s fortunate you came tonight, as I have some things I need to speak to you about.”

“Oh?” questioned Draco as he sat down in an armchair by the fire.

Severus sat down in front of him, nodding. “Yes. Something happened early on in the Christmas break… between myself and your mother.”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? So… so are you two now in a relationship?”

“Yes, we are. Well, actually, our relationship started shortly after she divorced Lucius. What happened was that I proposed to your mother,” Severus said cautiously.

“That’s great!” enthused Draco.

Severus’ shoulders slumped in obvious relief. “I was rather nervous you would take the news badly. I am, in a sense, usurping your father’s position.”

“No! Don’t think of it like that, Severus. Besides, you’ve always been there for me, and to be honest, ever since I knew what my father was really like, I’ve wished I had a different one. When our relationship got better, I started wishing that _you_ were my father, since I knew you’d always treat me kindly, and be proud of my achievements, no matter what.”

It was now Severus’ turn to show his surprise. “I… I had no idea you saw it that way, Draco. I’m honoured you see me like that, and I must say I’m glad, for now I can explain the second thing I wanted to tell you. Even though it has happened rather fast, your mother and I are rather serious about each other, and it seems likely that we may decide to bond in the summer. If that is the case, your mother has given me permission to approach you with an offer of a blood adoption.”

Draco gasped. “Seriously? That—that would be incredible! Absolutely perfect! Yes, Sev, if—no— _when_ you and Mother get married, I would be honoured to become your son.”

He rushed off his seat and into Severus’ arms. The man stiffened in shock, then quickly hugged him back, relishing in the acceptance so freely given.

“Where would we live? If it’s that horrible Spinner’s End place, then you’ve got to buy a new house—I absolutely refuse to live in such a dump, and—”

Severus laughed, cutting off his rambling godson—soon-to-be-son, actually, he was rather excited. “Relax, little brat. Have you forgotten I’m Lord Prince? If everything goes according to plan, we shall move into Prince Manor.”

“Oh, brilliant! I remember that place! It was so beautiful there, but I think the best part was the lack of albino peacocks. Those things are vicious pests, and the only reason Father ever wanted them was because he thought they made Malfoy Manor look more aristocratic.”

Draco spent some more time with his godfather, then left an hour before curfew, happily humming all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. In his pocket, he had the ceremonial dagger that Severus had given him after informing him it would be the one used during the ritual. Draco had to occasionally have it upon his person so some of his ambient magic could be contained inside it; that way, the blood-adoption ritual would take less time and be more binding.


	14. Valentine's Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for Drarry, which I'm quite sure is most of you, enjoy!

Time passed, and as January turned into February, Harry despaired over the possibility that they might not figure out the Chamber of Secrets mystery before another person was Petrified. However, in early February, another matter suddenly burst its way into Harry’s awareness. It was only about a week before Valentine’s Day, and Harry had become rather sure that the small crush he’d had on his best friend over Christmas had turned into a huge one. He’d known that he liked boys for about a year, but he’d never actually had any feelings for anyone beyond a few blush-inducing thoughts about what it might be like to kiss someone.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do in regards to Draco. Should he just tell him? Give him a card? What about asking him out? Where would they even go? They weren’t able to go to Hogsmeade until next year! He couldn’t talk to Hermione, since she had very different ideas to him of what romance was; Fred and George were out of the question since he’d rather be sappy and romantic than humiliated due to a prank gone wrong. Enya wasn’t much help either, since she’d just told him to give his prospective mate some dead rats and that was so… _ewww…_ So, Harry had decided to do something crazy: talk to Sirius.

That night, when he was sure Draco and his other dorm mates were asleep, he cast a Silencing Charm on his curtains, so no one would be able to hear anything that happened within their confines. He got out the communication mirror Sirius had given him ages ago, and whispered, “Padfoot!”

Sirius picked up almost immediately, and he appeared to be sitting in front of the fire at hime. “Hey, pup. What brings you to call at such a late hour?”

“I… I need your help. I like Draco, a lot, and I want to give him something on Valentine’s Day, but I have no idea what.”

Sirius’ questioning expression slowly morphed into one of surprised happiness. “Aww, that’s great, Harry! Wow, old enough to be asking your godfather about boys,” he said, wiping a fake tear away, “I’m so proud of you!”

Harry rolled his eyes. He was definitely not blushing. At all. “Sirius, please! I need your help, you can brag about how much I’ve grown to Remus when I’m not there. What do I do about Draco?”

Sirius sighed, as if put upon, but his twinkling eyes gave him away. “Okay. So. With Valentine’s Day, you can never go wrong with a nice card. You’re lucky that you’re such a good artist—you won’t have to settle for getting a generic card owl-ordered to him. If you’d like, I can send you an owl-order catalogue for cards, so you can get some idea of what they look like and contain.”

Harry sighed in relief. “That would be great, Sirius! I’ll send you Hedwig tomorrow morning, so can you have it sent so that it’ll arrive by tomorrow night around seven? That way, Draco will be studying, and I can just slip away to get it off her from my dorm room.”

Sirius nodded happily. “Of course! Now, onto accompaniments. Does Draco generally prefer chocolates, or flowers?”

Harry had to think about that for a moment. “Er… Chocolates, I think. He’s always begging us to sneak into Honeydukes with him so he can get some more.”

“And what’s his favourite type?”

“Hazelnut,” Harry replied instantly, “although he doesn’t mind dark chocolate too much.”

“Then sneak into Honeydukes and buy some hazelnut chocolate, perhaps some chocolate-dipped strawberries too, since they’re absolutely delicious. Keep them in the stasis bags they come in, then once it’s breakfast, take a little picnic in the Room of Requirement with the chocolate and strawberries. You’ll need to organise the time with your other friends, since they might want to have little dates in there as well.”

*

Harry was feeling worried again. He’d finished making the card for Draco three days ago, and had then snuck into Honeydukes as Sirius had suggested. The best thing about the owners of Honeydukes, in Harry’s opinion, was that they didn’t care if it was a Hogsmeade weekend, or even if they looked like they were old enough to go on one of those weekends. They loved the store and the kids who visited, and unless directly asked by a teacher, they wouldn’t tell anyone you’d come in for some of their sweets.

The thing he was worried about most, he decided, was whether his plans would be accepted by Draco. To be honest, he didn’t actually know if Draco liked him back or not. He _thought_ the feeling was mutual, because he’d sometimes catch Draco staring at him, or blushing when they were in close proximity, but that could be due to any number of outside factors.

He’d lain awake for about an hour, stressing (only a bit, of course), when he finally heard Draco stir. He waited for the sounds of Draco taking his morning shower to start, then quickly got out of bed and took his time dressing for the day. Draco took at least fifteen minutes in the shower every morning, and unless they had Herbology that day, he wouldn’t shower at night. Checking the time, he quickly brushed his hair as much as was possible, then took out his card and chocolate, checking them over one last time to make sure they were perfect.

He heard Neville waking up, and quickly told him what he was about to do. Neville shook his head bemusedly and made his way to the bathroom to take his own shower. Harry faced the bathroom, chewing on his bottom lip, when he heard the door open again. Draco stopped short when he saw that Harry was already up, since normally he would wake up shortly after Neville. Then, when he saw what Harry was holding, and gasped. “H-Harry?” he stuttered out, his face taking on a pink tinge.

Harry took a deep breath, and held the card and chocolate out to Draco. “I really like you, Draco. Will you be my Valentine?”

Draco’s eyes were wide as he took the things from Harry’s hands, staring at them as though unable to believe they were real. Harry was getting nervous with Draco’s lack of words, but was determined not to rush him. Finally, after what seemed an age, Draco looked into Harry’s eyes and said, “Yes. I will.” He laughed softly. “You know, I was actually going to wake you up with something similar. You totally caught me off guard with being awake.”

Harry exhaled the breath he’d been holding in relief. “Really? I mean, I had a little bit of an idea that you liked me back, but I wasn’t completely sure.”

“Yes, you dolt. I’ve liked you since about halfway through first year, although I didn’t really know what it was at the time, and I was unsure if it was as okay to like the same gender as people made it out to be.” He quickly went to his trunk and took out something Harry couldn’t see. When he turned to face Harry, he held a card and a beautiful yellow rose with red tips. Slightly bemused, he took the card and the rose, and looked questioningly at Draco. “I-it’s a Flame Rose… the yellow represents friendship, but the red tips on it change the meaning so that it means that I’ve fallen for you over the course of our friendship. Do you like it?”

Harry may have melted. “Yes, I love it. How about we go down to breakfast? Oh, and we’re going to the RoR at lunchtime.”

Draco furrowed his brows. “Are we planning a prank I don’t know about yet?”

Harry laughed softly. “No, it’s just going to be the two of us… like a date?”

“Oh.”

They walked down the stairs, blushing and holding hands, and were met by a squeal of happiness. They looked into the common room and saw Hermione hugging Fred as he spun her around. Draco raised an eyebrow. “I take it Hermione said yes?”

From around Hermione’s bushy hair, Fred grinned. “Got it in one! And I see Harry did too.”

“I’m the one who asked him, actually,” said Harry. “Do you have anything planned for the RoR at lunchtime?”

Fred shook his head. “I was thinking dinner, actually.”

“What?” asked Hermione. “What am I missing?”

“Harry and I am having lunch in the RoR, and you and Fred are apparently having dinner there.”

Hermione gasped. “A date? Oh Fred that sounds lovely!”

Fred led her out of the common room, winking behind her back at us, and Hermione chatted happily to him all the way down to the Great Hall. Harry and Draco, on the other hand, were content to simply walk quietly next to one another, although that might have something to do with their nervousness.

All their movement stopped when they saw the monstrosity the Great Hall had become. Large, lurid pink flowers festooned the walls, and there was heart-shaped confetti everywhere, since it was falling from the enchanted ceiling. Then, there was Lockhart. He was wearing robes matching the decorations, and just as they came out of their shock and sat down at the Gryffindor table, he stood up and waved for silence. All of the other teachers were stony-faced, well… all but Dumbledore, whose eyes Harry could see were twinkling away from the other side of the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” the deluded man shouted. “And may I thank the forty-five people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn’t end here!”

He clapped his hands, and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarves. Not just any, however; they were all wearing golden wings and carrying harps. “My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” exclaimed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

“Remind me to never use that epithet _ever_ again,” whispered George as Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands.

*

Harry took a deep breath and opened the door. He peeked inside and smiled. It was perfect! He turned around, and said, “Okay, Draco, close your eyes. No peeking!”

Draco barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but dutifully closed them. Harry led him into the room he’d envisioned, and bade him to sit down once they’d reached the picnic blanket. “Okay, open your eyes.”

Draco did so, and gasped. Harry looked around with pride. He’d pictured a forest clearing, with sunlight streaming in. He’d convinced one of the Black elves, Dipsy, to set up a romantic picnic once he’d asked for the room. He turned his attention back to Draco. “Harry… this… this is _beautiful!_ ”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, grinning happily.

Draco shook his head in wonder, then turned to the picnic basket that lay between them. “What’s on the menu, then?”

Harry opened it and pulled out the chocolate dipped strawberries he’d bought in Honeydukes, and some scones and cream he’d asked Dipsy to prepare. “I hope you like it.”

The young couple spent ages sitting in the clearing, eating, and talking about the most random subjects. When the food ran out, they made their way to the door, but Harry hesistated before opening it. He turned back to Draco, biting his lip again. However, Draco seemed to know what he was asking permission for, and simply leaned in and kissed him. Draco’s lips were warm, and soft, and really, everything Harry had hoped they’d be. When they broke the kiss, Harry saw Draco was blushing again. “Was that okay?”

Harry simply smiled, nodded, then leaned in again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was my attempt at some short, sweet fluff. I hope you all liked it.


	15. Cornelius Fudge

The weeks after Valentine’s Day passed quickly, filled with blushes and hand-holding, as well as secret kisses where no one could see. This held true for both Harry and Draco, and Fred and Hermione, while the other members of their friendship group simply rolled their eyes or teased them. Their planned Ravenclaw prank went off without a hitch, although it was rather chaotic, as they hadn’t planned for Peeves to decide that the Great Hall was the best place to ambush the victims. It had been dinnertime, and there still hadn’t been a sign of Peeves’ prank, and Harry and his friends were starting to feel uneasy. Then, all of a sudden, there came a loud cackling from behind the doors, and the poltergeist barged in with a sackful of the paint-balloons. He spotted the Ravenclaw table, yelled out, “This is for Looney!” and immediately started hurling the paint-balloons. Harry was glad they’d thought to add Luna’s bullying from an unknown number of Ravenclaws to the note they’d left him, otherwise there was no clue how many people would have been filled with paint. The reason they’d written that was because even though Peeves was crazy and his only goal in life involved mass pranking of all Hogwarts inhabitants, he actually had a sense of fair play, and a fierce protectiveness for them. If he heard about someone being bullied, he would hunt down the bully and mercilessly prank them. However, if he found troublemakers out after curfew, he felt it was his duty to make sure they were put safely back in their common rooms at least. It didn’t really make sense, but then again, neither did the rest of him.

The weeks passed quickly, and before they knew it, April had arrived. Harry had mixed feelings about April. The good bit was that on the first, it was the twins’ birthday, and they were holding a party in the common room. He knew that 70% of the food and drink there would be pranked in some way, but everyone knew, or at least suspected this, and so it was accepted. The bad part was that after the fourth of April, the restraining order he had against Lockhart would no longer be valid. Harry also wasn’t sure whether or not it would be worth it to renew the order, since there would only be three months left of term. At least they wouldn’t have to have Lockhart as a defense teacher, since luckily Dumbledore had agreed, albeit reluctantly, that switching teachers with so little of the year left would be detrimental to their education.

By the end of the twins’ birthday, everyone in the common room had been turned into a giant canary at least once, had their skin coloured in red and gold stripes that wouldn’t fade for another ten hours, and had an enormous amount of fun, which is really the only thing that matters.

Luckily for Harry, the fourth passed by without remark or word from Lockhart, but it was three days later when disaster struck. Harry, Draco, Neville, and Hermione were happily eating breakfast, when Neville just happened to look towards the Slytherin table when an owl landed in front of Blaise. He was about to look back at his food again, when he noticed how the blood drained from Blaise’s face as he read the letter the owl had brought.

“Draco, look at Blaise,” he muttered in a low voice.

Draco did so, and immediately noticed the lack of colour in his friend’s face. Just as he did so, Blaise stood up hastily and ran from the hall, the letter clutched in his hand.

“I’m going after him,” said Draco, and rushed out. Harry, following his boyfriend’s lead, ran out of the hall as well, trying to catch up to him. He heard Neville and Hermione close behind him. When the four of them caught up with Blaise, they found him in an alcove not far from the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and he was close to a panic attack.

“Blaise,” called Draco gently, kneeling before his friend and putting his hands on the shaking shoulders, “It’s okay, Blaise. I’m here, just breathe.”

Blaise didn’t respond much beside his eyes locking with Draco’s. Harry pulled out a Calming Potion from his bag. He’d made it a habit to carry one around after Draco’s panic attack at the beginning of last year, since he hadn’t known if he might have an episode again. He pushed it into Draco’s hand, and while he gave Harry a funny look, he quickly turned back to Blaise. “Okay, Blaise, I’ve got a Calming Potion here. You’re going to need to swallow it, and then you’ll be able to breathe again. I promise.”

Draco opened Blaise’s mouth and poured the potion down his throat. Blaise swallowed, then inhaled greedily. His head fell back into the wall with a dull thud as he continued to breathe deeply, and after a few minutes he had recovered enough to notice the three other people standing anxiously at the entrance to the alcove. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” insisted Draco. “We saw your reaction to the letter you got, and went after you. We’re your friends, Blaise. Friends stick together.”

Blaise smiled sadly. “Thanks. The letter said that Mother’s badly ill, and I just can’t handle this, not after losing my stepfather such a short time ago. What if… what if the worst happens? What will I do?”

“It won’t happen,” Draco said.

“You can’t know that for sure, though. That’s just what you want to happen.”

Draco looked to Harry, who said, “I don’t know either, you’d have to ask Luna. The relationship between mother and son would be valid for her gift, since Blaise is our friend, and his mother is only one more relationship away.”

“Should I go get her?” asked Neville.

“Wait, what gift? Why’d you look at Harry?” asked Blaise, confused.

Hermione took it upon herself to explain. “Harry has Magesight, and Luna has Conspicuum Magesight. Luna’s gift allows her to see the truth and some other similar things in people, but only up to three degrees’ of relationships away from Harry, Draco, and Neville.”

“The only problem she’s had so far is in the Slytherin common room and dorms, since there seems to be something stopping gifts like ours to work properly there,” said Harry.

“Oh,” said Blaise. “That might be the protective enchantment that Salazar Slytherin placed there. It specifically protects every Slytherin student’s privacy in magical matters. It even blocks out the Sight, apparently, so no Seers can directly See anything if it happens in the Slytherin area.”

Hermione got that gleam in her eyes that Harry knew to mean that this was something that she was going to research as soon as possible. He stopped her train of thought. “Should I get Luna?”

Just then, the warning bell rang, and Blaise stood up. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ve got Charms now. I’ve got a free period in third, though, how about then?”

“No,” said Neville. “We’ve got that free too, but Ginny and Luna have a free in fourth.”

Harry, Draco, and Hermione looked at him strangely, and he flushed. “It’s not my fault. I just pay attention.”

Hermione shrugged and pulled out a Muggle plastic folder from her ever-present shoulder-bag and flipped through it. “The first time all of us have free is in two days, in fifth period. We should meet up in the RoR then.”

Blaise just blinked, then shrugged. “If that’s the earliest, then sure. _How_ did you get my timetable, anyway?”

Hermione blushed. “By paying attention. I took note of which classes we’ve got with you, then I asked Luna which classes she had with the Slytherins, since the houses each house shares its classes with is the same, no matter the year. Then, I listened to the complaining the Slytherins in our year did and discerned which classes they had before or after the class they shared with us, and finally I put the timetable together. Simple.”

Now, it was the four boys’ turn to blink. “Maybe you could just give Hermione your timetable next year?” suggested Draco, and Blaise nodded, stunned.

They made their separate ways to class, and when the time came for their free period, they made their way to the Gryffindor common room to do some homework. However, just before they reached it, Hermione suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor, her eyes wide. “That’s… that’s _got_ to be it…” she mumbled.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

She shook her head and blinked as she came out of her trance-like state. “I’ve got it! I think I know what the monster is! I’ll be right back, I just need to get it from the library!”

She raced off, unheeding of Harry’s call of, “Hermione, wait! The Room is closer!”

Exasperated, he turned to Draco and Neville, who simply shrugged and walked to the Fat Lady’s portrait. Harry felt uneasy about letting Hermione go to the library alone, but shook the feeling off as paranoia and followed Draco and Neville into the common room.

However, after fifteen minutes of his unease just growing and causing him to be unable to study, he said, “It wouldn’t take her this long. It’s just to the library, finding the book she apparently knows the identity of, and back up. That would take ten minutes, tops.”

He stood up and started pacing, debating whether to go after her, and Draco said, “Harry, calm down. Nothing’s going to happen to her. She probably just got caught up chatting to Madam Pince or something.”

“No, that’s not—” Harry suddenly felt cold all over, and cried out as he fell to the floor.

“Harry!”

He breathed harshly and tried to overcome the sensation, finally realising the unease had been his Magesight trying to tell him something. Draco and Neville helped him stand up, and he quickly rushed to the common room exit. “Hermione,” he said in explanation, and he heard their gasps just before he knew they were following him.

His feelings led him to a corridor near the library, where he found her crouched next to a corner, a mirror in her hand. He reached out to touch her, and discovered to his horror that she was as hard as stone. “Oh no,” he breathed.

Draco, out of breath, asked, “What? What’s wrong? Hermione?”

Harry swallowed. “She can’t hear you, she’s been petrified.”

*

The trio, along with Fred and George, sat in the common room, not making any of their usual noise. Fred had bloodshot eyes, and was leaning on his twin’s shoulder, who was absentmindedly rubbing Fred’s arm in an attempt to comfort him.

Neville had run to fetch a teacher as soon as he’d heard what Harry had said, and when McGonagall had shown up with him, she’d demanded they return to the common room at once. Not too soon after, they’d heard this same order broadcasted across the whole school.

Draco and Harry were sitting, fingers interlocked, next to the window. It was Draco’s proximity to the window, and a timely glance out of it, that allowed him to notice that there was two figures, one unmistakably Dumbledore, and the other wearing a lime-green bowler hat, walking towards Hagrid’s cabin. He nudged Harry and pointed them out. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched them get let into the cabin, then they both gasped when they saw Lucius Malfoy striding across the grass, also in the direction of Hagrid’s cabin. “This can’t be good,” said Harry.

Not too long afterwards, the three men, plus Hagrid, were walking in the direction of Hogwarts’ gates. The two boys were unsure what to do, but when Fudge Apparated away, taking Hagrid with him, Harry sprung into action. He rushed upstairs to his trunk, pulled out his communication mirror and said, “Padfoot.”

The mirror misted over, but the mist quickly gave way to Sirius’ face. “Hey there, pup. What brings you to call this early in the day?”

“Fudge has taken Hagrid somewhere, and Dumbledore’s left Hogwarts… well, I don’t know that last one for sure, but Draco and I saw him, Fudge, and Malfoy go to Hagrid’s cabin, and Fudge Apparated away with Hagrid, then Malfoy went, and then Dumbledore. Hagrid’s innocent of opening the Chamber; he was last time as well!”

Sirius’ eyes were wide as he took this in. “I’m in the office now anyway, so I’ll check what’s going on, and call back when I find out.”

Harry walked downstairs and found his friends looking at him expectantly. “Sirius said he’d call back when he knows what’s going on.”

He sat down next to Draco again, and waited. Twenty minutes later, none of them had moved very much, but that stopped when Harry’s mirror vibrated in his hand. “Okay, so Fudge had arrested Hagrid and transferred him to Azkaban, then bragged about it in the Ministry Atrium. I told Madam Bones, who said Fudge couldn’t do that without a trial, so she authorised Hagrid’s return to Hogwarts after she told off Fudge. She said there wasn’t any evidence this time or last time that Hagrid did it, so he had to be let go. Fudge was furious, but she was brilliant!” finished Sirius.

“Wow,” said Draco. “That sounds like some sort of conspiracy. Wait, what about Dumbledore and my father?”

“Dumbledore’s been suspended. Malfoy was there on behalf of the Board of Governors.”

“They might as well close the school today,” said Neville, shocked. “With Dumbledore gone, there’ll be an attack a day.”


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so after this chapter, there are two more, then after that, I'm going to have a month's break, and then I'll upload a chapter of book 3. I have decided that for the next semester, Tuesdays shall be update days. However, my next semester is going to be very busy, so if I don't have any time to write that week, I'm just going to upload a chapter of one of two completely different fics, which I started because I just got random ideas. One is a Harry is a Malfoy Harry/Blaise fic and is currently having its seventh chapter written, and the other is a Harry/twins fic and has four and a half chapters. I'd like to know which one I should post first if I have no time to write on this fic next semester, so please comment on that.

Fred sat next to the frozen form of his girlfriend, distraught. Okay, so he knew she was only Petrified, and not dead, but still. Hermione was his first serious girlfriend, and they’d been together for two months, when previously he’d only held a relationship for two weeks. With this new length of relationship, came new levels of feelings; he cared very deeply for Hermione, it wasn’t quite love yet, but he could easily see himself falling completely for her. This scared him, since as a prankster, he was used to having fun, making others laugh, and just generally not being taken seriously, but the things she brought out in him were totally different. What was even more surprising was that he had decided that he liked what she made him feel, that if it made her happy, he’d do almost anything, _be_ almost anything. He knew, however, because of one of the long evening talks they’d had in front of the fire, that she liked him just as he was; part of what drew her to him was his mischievousness and fun-loving nature. She was perfect.

He turned his head to look at her again and sighed. He couldn’t bear to see her lying so still. Her eyes were open too, so he had no idea how that worked, or if she was feeling any pain because of it. He didn’t really know whether she could currently feel anything, or if she was at all aware, but he couldn’t help but tell her about the day he’d had.

“Okay, Mione. That’s all. I guess I’ll come back later, or tomorrow if I can’t find the time to slip away from everyone. There’s so much security, I had to duck down _three_ secret passageways just to get here! Anyway, I’ll see you then, love.” He stood up and leant down, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, and squeezed her right hand. He heard a crinkling sound, and looked down at her hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a small scrap of parchment was scrunched inside her fist.

He looked around surreptitiously, wanting to make sure no one was near, then attempted to get the parchment out. It was fairly difficult, because of how hard her hand was clenched around it, and he was trying to prevent it from tearing. After a few minutes, he managed to squirrel it out of her fist, and he unravelled it. “What—Hermione, this is a page from a library book! What was going through your sweet, intelligent little head when you tore it out?”

He read what was on the page, then blanched. “Oh, Merlin… a Basilisk…”

He looked at her. “How’d you manage this? I mean, it says that it’s got a ‘murderous stare’, so how did you and all the others manage to get Petrified? Nothing here says how Petrification gets tied in with it.”

He thought for a moment, then came to a decision. “Right. Hermione, I’m gonna go to the others, and have them look at this. Maybe they have some ideas. I’ll come back and tell you all about it, I promise.”

He ran off towards the seventh floor, where everyone but the firsties of their group was having a study session. When he got there, he was a bit out of breath, but dutifully handed the ripped-out page to Harry.

*Harry’s POV*

Harry raised an eyebrow when he saw the state Fred was in. He’d obviously slept in the clothes he was currently wearing, he looked unkempt, and he obviously hadn’t slept very much with those dark bags under his eyes, which was a far throw from his usual boyish good look. However, Fred handed over what looked like a torn piece of parchment, and looked at him expectantly. He read what it said, and his eyes widened in understanding.

“Well?” asked Fred excitedly. “What d’you reckon?”

“How did you get this?” he asked curiously. I mean, it makes sense, mostly.”

“Hermione had it scrunched up in one of her hands. I noticed it, and got it out.”

“What does it say?” asked Draco a bit impatiently. Harry gathered he didn’t like not knowing what someone was talking about.

Harry smiled gently when Draco cringed a bit at the tone he’d spoken in, to let him know he was forgiven. “It says, ‘Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or deadly thatn the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live may hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.’ Then, under that, Hermione’s written the word ‘Pipes’.”

By this time, everyone in the room was extremely pale. “ _Basilisks?_ ” asked Blaise, swallowing hard. He seemed the most affected out of them all.

Neville had his eyebrows furrowed. “If she’s saying that the Monster is a Basilisk, then how come no one’s died?”

“Easy,” said George, looking at the page over Harry’s shoulder. “It says, ‘all who are fixed with the beam of its eye’. What was Hermione looking into when you found her?”

Draco’s eyes lit up in understanding. “The mirror! That might also explain Colin; he was looking through his mirror. And remember when we came across Mrs Norris? The ground below her was covered in water, she must have only seen the reflection of its eyes. I don’t know about Justin, but Sir Nicholas is a ghost; he can’t die again.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and nodded. “Maybe Justin saw it through him. Come to think of it, I remember seeing a couple of spiders going out a window when we found Mrs Norris, and some spiders running away from where Hermione was. Hagrid also said Aragog was scared of whatever the monster was, and he complained ages ago that something was killing his roosters.”

“It would also explain why Enya told you she’d heard a huge snake a bit ago, and why you’re the only one out of us who heard the voice,” said Fred. “And ‘Pipes’ must be how it’s getting around so easily; it’s using the plumbing!”

“We need to take this to a teacher,” Neville said. “This is something they should know about.”

“Sev?” Draco suggested. “He’d be the most likely to listen to us. McGonagall would wave it aside, or ask us exactly why we’re so sure about it. Dumbledore’s gone, but even if he were here, I don’t know if I’d want to go to him.”

“Why not?” asked Neville. “Sure, he’s done horrible stuff to Harry, and he’s a manipulative old coot, but he’d still be the Headmaster. He’s got to care about the kids here to some extent.”

“Think about it, Nev,” said George, “Hagrid said that Dumbledore was there the last time the Chamber was opened. He believed Hagrid was innocent. What if he knew somehow who it was, and didn’t tell anyone? He’d be just as guilty as whoever’s behind this, since he’d have information no one else did, and let someone else figure everything out. Just like with the Stone last year.”

“Okay then, all those in favour of going to Snape, stick out your tongues,” said Fred.

Everyone rolled their eyes, but complied. That is, everyone but Blaise.

“What?” he said when everyone looked at him. “I’m failing Charms, I need to study more than I need to figure this mystery out. You guys tell me how it went, though.”

George shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he nodded firmly, although he was still looking a bit queasy from the recent revelation.

With this, all of them but Blaise rushed down to the dungeons, where Draco knocked urgently on Snape’s door. It opened, and the professor looked at the assembled group in a mixture of tiredness and resignation. “What can I do for all of you?”

They were let inside, where they quickly explained what they’d discovered. Snape’s eyes got wider and wider as the story went on, and when it was over, he slumped back in his armchair and covered his face with his hands. “Great, just great! The King of Serpents, endangering children inside a school. What are we supposed to do? Do any of you have an idea of where the Chamber might be?”

“Well… no,” admitted Draco, “but we do have a lead. We think Moaning Myrtle is Myrtle Warren, the girl who got killed the last time it was open. Her bathroom is close to the centre of the radius of where all the victims were found. It’s the best lead we’ve got.”

“Well then, lead the way,” Professor Snape stated, and they all walked quickly to their destination. However, just before they could enter, they saw that there was a new message where the old one had been. It read:

_His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._

All of them were staring at the words in horror. Then, Snape came to his senses and vanished the message with a flick of his wand. Then, with another flick, he conjured a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. With his wand, he directed the quill to the ink, then made it write a short message. He dried the ink with another spell and banished the quill and ink, then tapped the paper, which formed into a paper plane and zoomed off. When he turned back to the children, they were silently questioning him about what he’d just done. He huffed, but complied. Honestly, he was getting soft by spending so much time with these little brats. “A time-delayed message. If I don’t go speak to Professor McGonagall within an hour, it will go to her. It tells her everything you’ve figured out so far, and that we were going to speak with Myrtle. We do need a chance to figure out whether she knows anything about the Chamber or not. She’s our only clue.”

Draco was the first to shrug and make his way to the girl’s bathroom, but was intercepted by the annoying voice of Lockhart calling out from behind the group. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying, Professor Snape, and I completely agree. I had only just figured out the same thing, and was on my way to speak to her myself. Fortunate we ran into one another, isn’t it?”

Harry tried not to roll his eyes, he really did. He failed. It was a good thing his back was turned to the idiot, otherwise he just knew Lockhart would have seen and then started in on him. “Well then, Professor,” he said, trying not to inject any sarcasm into his voice. “We were just about to ask her how she died. How about you take the lead?”

“Ah, an excellent idea, Harry my boy.”

Harry clenched his teeth.

Lockhart strode through the door, followed by the group, and was met by Moaning Myrtle’s screeches. “Oh, _sure_ , first a boy regularly shows up here, now a whole bunch of them, _plus_ two teachers! This is not a picnic spot! What do I have to _do_ to get some time alone to _mope_ around here?”

Lockhart was about to make his usual bad impression, when Professor broke through Myrtle’s tirade. “A boy?” he questioned. “Do you mean to say that one boy has come in here more than once? Could you describe him?”

“A good observation, Professor,” butted in Lockhart. Draco facepalmed next to Harry.

“I don’t know, a boy. Slytherin robes, dark skin, dark hair, and with these odd purple eyes that flashed red sometimes.”

“ _Blaise!_ ” Draco gasped out and covered his mouth. Harry quickly hugged him tightly, then asked, “What would the boy do?”

“He’d just walk in, calm as you please, hiss at one of the sinks, then slide down into the entrance that would appear when he did that.”

“Which sink?’ asked Neville, shaken.

Myrtle pointed to a sink that looked like all the others. “It’s never worked, not even when I was alive.”

Harry, still holding onto Draco, went to the sink she’d pointed out. Draco had calmed down by this point, and was enjoying being held by his boyfriend, even in the middle of this nightmarish situation. He was the one to spot the tiny etching of a snake on one of the copper sinks. “Here! Harry, say something in Parseltongue, maybe it’ll open!”

Harry shrugged. Wouldn’t hurt to try. _:Open.:_

The tap began to glow and spin, then the sink itself sank right out of sight. In its place was the entrance to a huge, man-sized pipe.

“Ah, well done, Harry my boy,” Lockhart exclaimed, patting Harry’s shoulder and ignoring his disgusted expression. “You don’t mind if I go first, do you? I’ve been in a very similar situation before, in Wagga Wagga, where the werewolf had hidden its lair in the sewers. For full details, read _Wanderings with Werewolves_.”

Fred and George pretended to make themselves vomit behind him, and all the others tried to stifle their laughter.

Without further ado, he slid down the pipe and out of view. Harry waited a few seconds, then separated himself from Draco, kissed him on the lips, and followed Lockhart. It was like rushing down and endless, slimy dark slide. It twisted and turned harshly, all while maintaining a steep downwards slope. Finally, the pipe evened out and he shot out of the end of the pipe onto a ground filled with small, old animal bones and copious amounts of slime. He grimaced and sent a quick cleaning charm over himself, sighing in relief as the gross stuff disappeared.

It was then that Draco came hurtling out of the pipe, and as Harry had only just moved to the side in time, Draco did not smash into him. “Ugh, gross!” he exclaimed, and quickly hopped up and out of the way as Neville whizzed out of the opening as well. Draco quickly cleaned himself as well, and Neville followed suit. Very soon, they were all down there, and had become bored of listening to Lockhart’s (fake) exploits, mixed in with whining over how he’d broken his wand when he’d landed on it. Harry butted in and said, “Remember, any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away.”

“Whatever for, my boy?” asked Lockhart in a patronising manner.

“The Basilisk, sir,” he said in an innocent voice. “You did, of course figure out that the monster was a Basilisk, didn’t you?”

The idiot blanched, and nodded faintly. “O-of couse I did… er, I realised that yesterday, and—”

He cut himself off with a gasp as he saw a vivid, poisonous-green snake skin, and then his knees gave out as he fainted. “Wow,” Draco said, standing over the prone figure. “I wonder what—”

Lockhart suddenly got to his feet and snatched Draco’s wand, pointing it at all of them. “The adventure ends here,” he said, with a gleaming smile on his face. “I shall take back a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the boy, and that you all _tragically_ lost your minds at the sight of his mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories!”

He raised Draco’s wand over his head, brought it down with a swish and yelled, “Obliviate!”

There was an explosion, and Lockhart went flying backwards into the wall. Harry flung his arms over his head as the tunnel started to collapse, slipping over the coils of snakeskin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. The next moment, it was over, and he coughed and waved away the dust. “Hello?” he called out. “Draco? Nev? Anyone?”

“I’m here,” came Draco’s voice from next to him. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry muttered and flung himself into Draco’s arms.

“Also okay!” called out Neville’s voice in his ear, and he flinched away from him. Neville grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Too hard to resist.”

“As far as I can tell, everyone else is fine,” came Professor Snape’s voice from behind the wall of broken rock. “Well, Lockhart seems worst off. You must have bonded strongly with your wand, Draco. If someone who is not the hawthorn wand’s outright owner tries to use it, and handles it badly, it has a tendency to backfire. I daresay when he wakes up, he’ll have lost his memory. How much, I do not know.”

They heard a groan, then a dull thud, followed by, “Ow!”

“Weasley, _must_ you?”

“Yes,” came one twin’s voice, “I must. George must, too.”

There was another dull thud and another “Ow!”

This time, it was Snape who groaned. “You three just _had_ to leave me with these two, didn’t you?”

“We’re wasting time,” Harry broke in. “It would take too long to make even a small way through, and the tunnel may not be stable enough to do it magically. Nev, Draco, and I will go on, and try to get Blaise without waking up the Basilisk.”

“That’s not a good idea—” started Snape.

“We don’t have a choice, Sev!” said Draco. “Blaise needs help, and every second we waste makes his situation worse.”

There was a long pause, then, “Very well. We shall attempt to shift some of this rock to be ready for your return. If we finish before you are back, expect us to come after you.”

“Understood,” said Harry, and then he turned around and made his way down the dark tunnel with his boyfriend and his best friend.


	17. The True Heir of Slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the second last chapter for you guys!
> 
> My first chapter of book three will be posted on the 18th of July, and I will try to update every Tuesday after that. If I have no ready-made chapters of book 3, I will be posting a chapter of my Harry/twins fic, called 'When One Door Closes', and I have no idea how it will turn out.
> 
> Have fun with this chapter, I hope I made it worth your while to read how everything is really starting to become much more AU now.

The trio walked cautiously through the twists and turns of the dank antechamber until they came to a large, solid-looking wall, where they saw two carved serpents entwined around each other. The eyes of each serpent were set with emeralds the size of Harry’s two fists together, and they glittered in Neville and Harry’s dim Lumos spells like an ethereal green fire burned within each of them.

Neville swallowed. “I guess you need to speak to them again.”

Harry nodded and approached, throat dry. The jewel eyes made the snakes look strangely alive. He cleared his throat, and it seemed like the emerald eyes flickered for a moment. _:Open.:_

The serpents parted smoothly, and the wall cracked open. Shaking, Harry grabbed one of Draco’s and Neville’s hands, and led them inside. They found themselves at the end of a very long, dimly-lit chamber. Every so often, there was a towering stone pillar with carved serpents which supported a ceiling, which they couldn’t see, either because it was so high, or because there was such little light aside from the unnatural, green gloom permeating the area which seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once.

“I can’t really see Salazar Slytherin wanting _this_ for his precious pet Basilisk. As a snake, it would be really uncomfortable being in such a cold, damp environment,” whispered Draco, rubbing his forehead to stave off a forming headache.

 _:Lights?:_ asked Harry tentatively, and immediately the pillars all lit up in a dim glow. The combined light was about as bright as a normal summer’s day, which caused the three boys to curse and close their eyes. When their sight had adjusted, they were better able to see the surrounding area, and saw that the colours of the Chamber had transformed from the eerie green to a pleasant forest green, and the ceiling had been revealed to be enchanted similarly to the Great Hall’s.

“Well,” started Neville, “This is certainly more pleasant. Can we try to save Blaise now?”

Harry and Neville Nox-ed their wands and held them out in front of them. Draco, feeling distinctly uncomfortable without his wand, just stuck closely to Harry’s side, darting his eyes every which way to see if something (mainly the Basilisk) would come out of nowhere and attack them. As they passed between the pillars, they saw a huge statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, his face ancient and almost monkey-like. At his feet lay Blaise. Draco’s headache got stronger.

“ _Oh no!_ ” muttered Draco and rushed to his oldest friend’s side and dropping to his knees. “Blaise! Please don’t be dead!”

Harry and Neville knelt next to Draco and helped him turn their unconscious friend over onto his back. Harry remembered Sirius telling him about how to check if someone was alive or not, and quickly put his fingers over the pulse point on Blaise’s wrist. “He’s alive,” he said, relieved. Draco and Neville just looked at him like he was crazy, so he just said, “You can feel his heartbeat. Here, try it.”

Draco tried it, then, surprised, nodded his assent to Neville, who tried it as well.

“He won’t be alive for much longer,” said a soft voice.

They all jumped and spun around, although Harry stood protectively in front of the other two, trying to offer some form of protection from whatever it was. A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching them with some amusement. He obviously wasn’t solid, since he was quite blurred around the edges. There was no mistaking him. Harry had seen him before; had _drawn_ him before the school year had even started. This young man, who was clearly a Prefect, with his silver and green badge shining on his lapel, was cold and cruel. His chocolate brown eyes, which should have been warm and comforting, were cold and calculating. Harry knew that if he waited long enough, they would flash red like they had in his dream.

“Who are you? _What_ are you?” asked Neville bravely.

The boy smirked. “I am Tom Riddle. Or, rather, a memory of Tom Riddle, preserved in a diary for fifty years. Who are you?”

At this moment, Draco found the source of his headache; the little black diary he’d last seen in his father’s office. _Bollocks_. He needed to distract Memory-Riddle, which he now knew was the Horcrux’s defences trying to gain a human form, from realising he was trying to remember how to destroy Horcruxes.

“What does it matter?” broke in Draco. What have you done to Blaise?”

“Oh, well that is a rather _fascinating_ story, if I do say so myself,” Memory-Riddle said, turning to face away from them as if beginning a lecture. Draco quickly showed his friends the Diary, who realised what was going on. “I suppose the real reason Blaise Zabini is like this is because he wasn’t feeling very happy with the way his little friends were treating him, so he spilled his sorrowful tale to an invisible stranger.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“The diary in Draco’s hand,” said Riddle casually. “ _My_ diary. Blaise has been writing in it for months and months, telling me all his pitiful worries and woes: How his best friend _ignored_ him for the company of the _famous_ Harry Potter-Black, how he felt so isolated from the rest of the school, how he was afraid he might never find his mate…”

The whole time he was speaking, he didn’t look away from Harry’s face. There was a macabre, hungry look in his eyes.

“It’s so very _boring_ , having to listen to the silly little troubles of a disgusting, half-breed twelve-year-old,” he went on, and all three of the trio’s jaws clenched on behalf of their unconscious friend. “But I was patient, sympathetic. I wrote back, blabbering kind words, Blaise simply _loved_ me. _No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got you to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…_ ”

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him, and the hairs stood up on the backs of their necks. “Charming people has always been somewhat of a specialty of mine, and since him pouring out his soul to me was exactly what I wanted, I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of his deepest fears, his darkest secrets. When I became more powerful than little Blaise was, I started feeding him some of _my_ secrets, some of _my_ soul.”

They gasped. “Yes,” he said calmly. “Blaise opened the Chamber of Secrets for me. He strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. He sent the serpent of Slytherin on those filthy mudbloods and the squib’s cat. I wasn’t very pleased when he told me about how _someone_ had cured that cat.”

“No,” Draco whispered, clutching Blaise’s body closer to him. It felt colder than it had before. They needed to hurry this monologue up.

“It took such a long time for stupid, little Blaise to stop trusting his diary,” said Riddle, “but by that time, I’d all but taken over him completely. I grew tired of attacking mudbloods and turned my sight on a new target. You.”

“ _Me?_ ” asked Harry, feigning a confused expression. He knew that somehow this Tom Riddle person was Voldemort, since the diary was his Horcrux. He just had to provoke him enough to get him to call the Basilisk, since they were too far away, and in too much danger, to get the diary to the goblins. The only three things that could destroy it were the killing curse, which Harry was not going to even _attempt_ to cast, Fiendfyre, which was even more ridiculous to attempt, and Basilisk venom.

“Yes. From everything Blaise had told me about you, I knew you were trying to solve the mystery, that you had even solved a life-or-death mystery the year before. I knew that if one of your best friends was attacked, you’d put even _more_ effort in, and so when you had discovered what the legendary ‘Monster of Slytherin’ was, as if it could have been anything else, I knew it was time to end things. I had him write his own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait for you. He struggled and cried and became _very_ boring, but he put too much into the diary, into me, that there isn’t much life left in him. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have so many questions for you, Harry Potter-Black.”

“You do realise he’s not here by himself, don’t you?” asked Neville deprecatingly. “I mean, you look like you’re in, what, fifth or sixth year, and yet you can’t even count?”

Riddle twitched, but ignored him and continued to stare at Harry, who then spat out, “Which questions?”

“Well, how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now. Harry shivered.

“Why do you care how I escaped?” said Harry slowly. “Voldemort was after your time.”

“Voldemort," said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry.”

He pulled Blaise’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

 

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

 

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

 

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

 

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

This was it. “So you’re a half-blood?” Draco asked innocently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Harry’s a half-blood too, and I know quite a few muggleborns who are brilliant witches and wizards. I don’t know _why_ you thought you had to kill those of ‘lesser’ blood, when you were one yourself.”

Riddle’s jaw clenched but he managed to ignore him. Then Harry spoke, “And you’re not the greatest sorcerer in the world. Very, _very_ many people, in fact I dare say the majority of the wizarding world associates that title with Dumbledore. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try to take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you then, and wherever you’re hiding these days, you’re still scared of him.”

Riddle had an ugly look on his face. “He’s been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory_ of me!”

“Oh, no,” interrupted Neville. “It’s just temporary, and even then he’s not as gone as you might think.”

Out of nowhere, Fawkes flamed into the room and began singing an unearthly music. He held a ragged bundle of leather in his claws, which he dropped on Draco. It unfolded in mid-air, and the Sorting Hat landed on Draco’s head. He quickly lifted up the brim and watched as the phoenix continued his flight around the room, singing all the while.

Riddle smirked. “ _That’s_ what your precious Dumbledore sent you? His most deadly weapons? A songbird and an old hat? I suppose I have no choice but to unleash _my_ most deadly weapon: The powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

With an aggravated sigh, he turned to the statue of Slytherin. _:Speak to me,_ _Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.:_ he hissed.

Harry wheeled around to face the statue, and watched, horrified, as its mouth opened, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. He could see something stirring inside, something was slithering up from its depths.

“You’ve made a little mistake, Riddle. You see, with the whole Heir of Slytherin thing, well when I defeated you as a baby, I conquered your House.” he said, pushing back his fear and smirking at the much more solid Riddle. Then, he hissed, _:_ _I am the true Heir of Slytherin_ _by Conquest.:_

Now it was Riddle’s turn to gasp, but Harry was too focused on the emerging Basilisk.

 _:Oh, good. I was wondering when you would show up,:_ said the vaguely amused voice of the Basilisk. _:What is your command, Master?:_

“This _cannot_ be happening!” exclaimed Riddle. _:I am your master, Basilisk! You are to kill that impostor and his friends right this moment!:_

 _:And why should I do that?:_ it asked. _:If you had gone further into the Chamber, you would have discovered that I am bonded to the whole of Slytherin’s line as a familiar, but only its current Heir and Lord can command me. I know when someone gains one of these statuses. This boy speaks the truth.:_

Riddle just stood there, mouth agape.

Harry, who had been surreptitiously translating the conversation for his friends, was given the diary by Draco, who was now also holding a huge sword that had come out of the hat. He held it out to the huge serpent and said, _:This is Black magic, I request that you destroy it by biting through it._ _Also, please make sure not to kill or Petrify anyone with your gaze._ _:_

 _:No!:_ came Riddle’s last attempt, but the Basilisk simply ignored him.

 _:As you wish, Master.:_ The Basilisk bent down and gently took the small black book from Harry’s hands, then bit down hard.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over the edge of the Basilisk’s mouth. Harry hoped none got in its mouth, it looked disgusting. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing, and then… he was gone. Blaise’s wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. _:Thank you. Might I know your name?:_ he asked.

 _:My name is Selena, Master.:_ she said after she had placed the diary on the ground where it continued to spurt the occasional bit of ink like blood out of an artery.

_:Please, call me Harry. I’d rather not be called a Master by anyone. The blond-haired boy is named Draco, the dirty-blond one is Neville, and the unconscious one is Blaise.:_

_:Of course, Harry.:_

At that moment, a faint moan came from Blaise, and he stirred. All three boys were now kneeling next to their awakening friend, and helped him sit up. His eyes travelled from each of his friends’ faces to the huge form of the Basilisk. His eyes widened. “She’s safe,” Harry hastened to say. “Her name’s Selena.”

Blaise drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down his face as he flung himself into his friends’ arms. “Oh Draco—Harry, Neville—I’m so s-sorry—I tried to tell you so many times—he just wouldn’t let me! It was _me_ —but I-I _swear_ I didn’t mean to—R-Riddle made me, he-he possessed me—and—what’s going on? Where’s Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary—”

“Riddle’s gone. Harry had Selena bite the diary, and he’s been finished off.” explained Neville.

Harry held up the diary. “See? Gone, kaput.”

Blaise took another shuddering breath and nodded. Draco then said, “C’mon, Blaise, let’s get you out of here.”


	18. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the last chapter for this fic! I hope you'll enjoy it, and look at the A/N last chapter to find out when I'll post the first chapter of book 3. Enjoy!

Harry made sure that Selena would be fine remaining in the Chamber for the time being, learning that she could get enough to eat simply by following one of the secret tunnels out into the far reaches of the Forbidden Forest where game was plentiful and did not include centaurs. With this revelation, the three bedraggled Gryffindors practically carried Blaise out of the Chamber and into the waiting arms of Professor Snape, who had managed to fortify the site of the cave-in and dig out a sizable entrance with the help of the twins.

Snape was extremely grateful that his Slytherin had come out of the Chamber alive, and everyone saw how proud he was of Draco when he heard the full story of what had happened. This pride was increased tenfold when he saw the sword his godson was holding. “Oh Merlin! Draco, do you know what that sword is?”

Draco shook his head. “I was trying to protect Blaise from Riddle, when Fawkes dropped the Sorting Hat on my head. When Selena, the Basilisk came out of the statue, I felt the hilt of the sword hit me on the head from inside the Hat. I pulled it out and I was about to throw it to Harry, when he started talking to her in Parseltongue. I didn’t want to distract him or draw her attention, so I stayed put.” He shrugged. “I didn’t actually need to give the sword to anyone, so I kept it.”

Snape shook his head in wonder. “That is the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. Crafted by Ragnok the third and given to Gryffindor himself, it’s been lost for at least four centuries. The legend was that only those who were true Gryffindors at heart could call it to them in times of need.”

Draco looked closer at the blade, and sure enough found the name engraved just below the hilt.

_Godric Gryffindor_.

For a minute, no one spoke. Then, this silence was broken by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. “What’s all this silence about, eh? Do all of you live here?”

Snape groaned. “For the hundredth time, no! We are in a cave! Is that not obvious?”

“People can live in caves if they want to, can’t they?” asked George in a mock-offended voice.

“Yeah, it’s a life choice!” agreed Fred, always ready to make Snape’s life more difficult. “Just because _you_ don’t live here, some of _us_ might!”

“Oh,” said Lockhart. “Do any of you—”

“ _NO!_ ” shouted Snape.

*

The way back out of the pipe was easily provided by Fawkes. Holding onto the phoenix’s tail feathers and each other, an extraordinary lightness spread through all of them, and the next second, with a whoosh, they were flying upwards through the pipe. Soon enough, they were all lying in a heap in Myrtle’s bathroom, and one muttered _:Close,:_ from Harry caused the sink that hid the pipe to slide back into place.

Myrtle floated above them. “You’re all alive,” she said mournfully. “I’d been hoping that at least one of you might, so you could share my toilet with me. It gets ever so lonely sometimes.”

All but Lockhart shivered at the thought; Lockhart was staring at Myrtle as though he’d never seen a ghost before.

“I don’t think we need to tell Dumbledore the truth about what happened in the Chamber,” said Neville. “We still aren’t completely sure whether he knows about Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and I bet that as soon as he sees that diary, he’ll know. Then you’d have to explain about Selena and memory-Riddle, and how you’re the Heir.”

Harry nodded. “Good point.” He turned to Draco. “What about Dobby? We could give him the diary and the sword, and we could just say Blaise got possessed by Voldemort’s wraith.”

“How would we explain that I’m not dead like Quirrell, though?” asked Blaise.

Draco thought for a moment. “Dumbledore likes sappy stuff, right? We could say Blaise forced him out because of how much our friendship means to him.”

That caused the four of them to laugh tiredly. “You really want to lay it on thick, don’t you?” said George.

Draco sniffed. “Of course! _Everyone_ loves being friends with me.”

He called Dobby then, and handed the two objects over, instructing him to bring them to his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, and Dobby popped away obediently.

At that moment, McGonagall rushed into the bathroom, Dumbledore close behind her. At seeing Blaise amongst them in the pile, she gave a great sigh of relief. “I suppose it was Mr Zabini who was taken to the Chamber, Severus?” she asked.

Snape nodded, having stood up while the others were still talking, and had by now cleaned all of them with some swishes of his wand. “Indeed. He was possessed by The Dark Lord’s wraith.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised. “ _Another_ possession, less than a year after the last one? How is young Mr Zabini alive then? For if I am not mistaken, The last time he was confronted by you, Harry, his host died. What differed this time?”

Harry sat up, dragging Draco up with him because of their linked hands. “I didn’t actually touch him, Professor. I knew that if I did, Blaise might die, and I couldn’t do that to him or Draco.”

Draco elaborated. “Blaise managed to surface, and he begged us to help him. We didn’t know how to, so I told him that he was the only one who could help himself. He fought Voldemort and cast him out. I don’t know how.” He turned to Blaise, who had also sat up in preparation for explaining his part of their make-believe adventure.

“I didn’t want to hurt Draco. Voldemort just kept on whispering to me what he was going to do to all of them when he’d taken me over completely, and I finally just snapped. I yelled at him that I would never hurt my best friend, or any of my friends for that matter, and I pushed him out.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows were now so high up they had almost disappeared into his hairline. “I distinctly remember updating the wards to make sure no wraiths or ghosts could enter Hogwarts grounds without permission. Not even possession should have made it possible for him to have crossed them, so how did Voldemort manage this?”

“He told me it was because Draco’s father was on the Board of Governors, _he_ gave him permission to get into Hogwarts, sir.”

“Oh, dear,” said Dumbledore. “I’ll have to see about getting him fired from that position, then. Goodness knows what he could cause next. On another matter, Professor Lockhart, why so quiet?”

Lockhart didn’t respond; he was still staring at an amused Myrtle, who was pulling more and more ridiculous faces at him to see what he would do. This was the most fun she’d had in her life!

Snape quietly explained to the befuddled Headmaster about the backfired spell, and the resulting memory loss. Dumbledore simply chuckled and wandered to the door, muttering to himself, then stopped and turned to the group. “You shall all receive Special Awards for Services to the School, and fifty points apiece for your houses. Well, you won’t receive any points, Severus, but the Award should be worth it, don’t you think? Now, those Petrified are just being un-Petrified in the Hospital Wing. You may be escorted there by Professor Snape, and afterwards you shall go to the Great Hall. I think this occasion merits a feast!”

*

As each Petrified victim was woken up, they told them the story they’d come up with. Neville used his influence as Heir of Gryffindor to ensure that Sir Nicholas wouldn’t blab the truth to anyone, and Justin agreed because this made more sense than what he’d actually seen, and because he secretly believed being cursed by Voldemort and surviving would make him seem tougher.

At the feast, it was revealed that the end-of-year exams other than OWLs and NEWTs were being cancelled as a school treat. The next day was the final day for deciding on which electives the second-years would take up. Harry had decided on Divination, because he thought it might help to interpret his Magesight visions and feelings, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. Draco had decided on the exact same subjects, but Neville hadn’t wanted to take Ancient Runes, and had instead taken Muggle Studies. Hermione had almost decided to take all of the electives somehow, but the trio, with help from the twins, had managed to convince her to only pick three, so she had settled with Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies. When questioned why she wanted to take Muggle Studies, she explained that she wanted to learn about how witches and wizards saw Muggles, and, if possible, correct any misinformation.

Soon afterwards, Hogwarts was back to normal, and Draco’s birthday was celebrated with a picnic out on the grounds. Narcissa had attempted to gain permission to visit her son, but was denied by Dumbledore, who had decided on a policy of ‘don’t let anyone other than students and teachers into Hogwarts’ in an attempt to stop any dark objects or wraiths from gaining access. Instead, Narcissa had to make do with speaking to her son via Harry’s and Sirius’ paired mirrors.

A few weeks later saw Narcissa resplendent in a beautifully tailored white dress-robe, walking down the isle on Sirius’ arm towards a cleaned up Severus. The ceremony took place on the grounds of Prince Manor, in a gazebo which was covered in white wisteria and passion fruit blossoms. The day after their wedding was the blood-adoption ceremony of Draco, and the next day Draco came out the Floo in Grimmauld Place, ready to spend two weeks with his friends and his boyfriend while Narcissa and Severus went on their honeymoon on a private island in the Caribbean.

Currently it was a week until Harry’s birthday, and the boy in question was reading an article in the Daily Prophet his godfather had shown him. It talked about how Hagrid would be starting Hogwarts again because of a successful exoneration. Harry smiled, then flipped the page back to the front and froze. The headline read: _ **PRISONERS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN!**_


End file.
